


Long, Long Way From Home

by just_chaotic



Series: Dear Mr. Fantasy [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Supernatural, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Bisexual Peter Parker, Crossover, Dean Winchester Needs a Hug, Dean helps the Avengers, Dean is In Over His Head, Dean teams up with the Avengers to fix it, Fix-It, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt Tony Stark, Idk man maybe it will, Lesbian Claire Novak, Parent Tony Stark, Pining, Pining Dean Winchester, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Protective Dean Winchester, Protective Tony Stark, Pseudo-Parent Dean Winchester, Supernatural and Marvel, Team Free Will, Team Free Will gets decimated in the snap, The Avengers are in Over their Heads, This Is Not Going To Go The Way You Think, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Trans Peter Parker, also clint/laura/nat are totally polyamorous and you cant change my mind, anyway, but i also love lesbian mj or ace mj too so who knows, i am totally rewriting steve's ending later, i love peter/mj but i also love ned/peter so that could go any which way, if a character was blipped but still mentioned in this story then i tagged them, maybe some more polyamory cause i'm all about it, the steve/buck/peggy will make sense later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2020-03-04
Packaged: 2020-08-13 12:01:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 25,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20173915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/just_chaotic/pseuds/just_chaotic
Summary: This is the story of what happened after Thanos' snap, but with a supernatural twist. Dean and Claire survived the snap, and they are at a loss. So, they head to the people who surely can help them figure all this out: the Avengers. But how will the ensuing challenges pan out with two new heads on the case?Featuring: lots of Irondad/Spiderson angst, Claire growing up some, Dean learning about himself and finding new people to call family, the time heist but this time with two more players (and what changes will ensue because of this?), a new take on the final battle, and plenty of gay to go around.





	1. Comfortably Numb

**Author's Note:**

> Check each chapter for any applicable warnings! Some content is intense but not inappropriate/weird, more like heavy shit.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beginning! Dean deals with the immediate aftermath of the snap. In the show, I believe he would be more active immediately after the fact if something like the snap had happened. But to suspend disbelief, he's never seen his family turn to dust before. And he saw it, literally, them turn to dust. So he knows where they are, and that they currently aren't alive. Not much he can do about it, hence the apparent defeat he's feeling right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains depression, thoughts of suicide, and some harsh words about those topics.

“Dean-” Cas’ voice was cut off with a choking noise. Dean whipped around, and was met with the sight of Cas standing up from the couch, reaching out to him and turning into dust. Jack looked at him with tears in his eyes. He tried to speak, but he didn’t get the chance. Floating all around him, sinking slowly to the ground where Cas had stood to reach for him and into the seats where Sam and Jack had sat, was nothing but… dust.

At first, he was afraid it would happen to him next. But a minute went by, and then two. Then five. Somewhere along the way, Dean stopped seeing. He stopped feeling. He fell to his knees, and just stopped.

* * *

Somewhere between dissociating from reality and contemplating demon deal versus witches spells, Dean fell asleep. He woke up, sore from sleeping on the concrete floor that he had apparently laid down on. He hated himself for it, but for one small, glimmering moment, he let himself believe that it had been a dream. He knew it wasn’t genuine hope. He was a Winchester, after all. Sam may be an optimist at heart, but Dean knew that shit like this wasn’t just dreams. His little moment was pure delusion, but for a split second before he acknowledged that, he almost felt better. Almost.

His mind still felt blank. He almost felt high, like back at that resort where he got roofied. Only this was worse. Of the three times he had been roofied, each time he could feel his mind working to make sense of things, trying to understand and work its way out of the problem at hand. This was like… being on pain meds at the hospital, or something. He had no desire to pull himself out of this haze, to think or to feel anything but the sensation of floating.

Dean had no perception of the time he spent lying there on the floor, only feet from the… ashes? Dust? Whatever it was that his family had turned into. The bunker didn’t have a lot of natural light away from the main room, so he didn’t know what time of day it was. He actually thinks he might have pissed himself at some point, he has been lying there for so long. He doesn’t care, though. 

When his head begins to hurt, he relishes in it. But eventually the dull throb turns to a migraine and he knows he is dangerously dehydrated. The stomach pains had begun at some point, and he still cramped occasionally, but it was dulling. The thirst was less ignore-able. In fact, it was pulling him back into awareness more than he would like to be. Morbid as it may be, in one of his more aware periods he does briefly consider just laying there forever. He thinks he could do it. And it’s not like he hasn’t thought about… _ this _ before. Generally in less painful ways, and only in the most desperate of times. And it isn’t even the worst thing he’s ever considered doing. Surely, dying of depressive dissociation-induced dehydration would be better than spending eternity in the Ma’lak box.

Alas, that wasn’t going to be an option, it seemed. He heard someone enter the bunker. This was the moment of decision. Get up, assess, potentially fight if it was an intruder. But his decision was made when he focused again on the dust. He would lie here until some external force moved him. He didn’t care.

Light footsteps approached him. He didn’t turn. He heard a quiet scoff, then the footsteps retreated. There was some clanging, the sound of water running, and the steps returned. Dean didn’t even lift his head. He actually closed his eyes, as if he were willing reality away the more that it forced him to be a part of it. With his eyes shut, he didn’t see the small figure struggle over him, holding a large pot. He also didn’t see the water from the pot being dumped right on his head.

“GAH, fuhh-gblu-ah, gah-” Dean spluttered, gasping for breath and blinking away water when he was unwillingly yanked from his willful vegetative state into an upright position by a surprisingly small arm.

“Get up, and go shower. You smell like a urinal.” 

Dean blinked more, slowly focusing on the head in front of him. Blond hair, angry face…

“Claire?” he rasped. His voice was strained from the dryness in his throat and mouth, along with lack of use.

“That’s my name, don’t wear it out,” Claire deadpanned. There was no trace of humor in her face, no snark or teasing. She looked as defeated as he felt.

“What-” Dean stopped to cough, clear his throat. Claire handed him a glass of water. He stared at it for a moment, not sure whether he would actually make the move to truly end the self-destruction by dehydration that he had been indulging in up until now.

“It’s water, dumbass. I got it when I got the pot to dump on you. Drink it.”

At that point, he registered the moisture on his lips from the water she had dumped on him and he felt his thirst in all its intensity. He grabbed the glass, noticing how weird it felt to use his muscles again, and chugged at the glass. After only three gulps, Claire yanked the cup away. He felt like a chump, almost letting out a whine. He settled for a glare.

“You’ll thank me when you don’t puke it all up in five minutes,” she said, still with the monotone she had before. “_ Sip _.”

He didn’t know why he said it, and he had no way of knowing that it was such a low blow. He didn’t know how he knew that this was the magic phrase, all he knew was that something in him wanted her to not be here. He didn’t want Claire to see him like this. He didn’t want her to try and take care of him. He didn’t want Claire to save him. So he said it, and even though he truly didn’t know how painful it would be, he knew it would strike a nerve.

“‘S’that something Jodie taught you?” He coughed again. “Maybe your nurse sis?”

There was a beat of silence, then a blinding pain exploding behind his eyes. It took him a moment to realize that the pain was actually originating at his nose, which Claire had kicked. _ Kicked _. And now, she was up and walking away, shouting at him as she left.

“Fuck off, Dean. Go drive off a cliff or eat a bullet or some other shitty thing. It will be quicker than starving yourself to death on the bunker floor where no one but me will ever find you. You know, I may have done some stupid shit when bad things happened in the past, but I’m barely past being a kid.” Her voice got farther away as she approached the steps. “You’re acting like a damn baby, pissing yourself and waiting for someone to come give you a fucking bottle, even though you’re one of the only people in the world I know of who can do jack shit about what’s going on. So go fuck yourself, Dean. I’ll do it my damn self.” She yanked the door open and stormed out, slamming it shut behind her.

  
_ What… Claire… how, what? _Dean felt fuzzy again. The dissociation was coming back, and boy was it tempting. But he looked around, a new perspective now that he was sitting up for the first time in, well, days. His entire face throbbed, and he felt blood dripping down his face. She had probably broken his nose. He looked at the place where Cas had been, and felt like he was physically cracking open from the chest. He noticed something that he hadn’t registered earlier. The angel blade. Cas’ angel blade had fallen, and rolled almost under the couch. Dean reached out and grabbed it. Something in him hardened in that moment. He stared at it for a moment, and let that resolve wash over him. He didn’t think about Cas, Sam, or Jack. But he knew what he was going to do now. And it wasn’t to let himself die on the floor. Instead, he got up and followed Claire.


	2. Paint It Black

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Claire make up their mind about their next move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be warned that there is some slightly depressing talk about the snap, but nothing too intense or triggering!  
Also, PSA that I am not anti-Cap, so rest assured that this fic won't be hating on him. For now, Claire and Dean are just a tad anti-Cap though, so that's where we're at.

“I’m still pissed at you, and you really could go fuck yourself with a cactus and I would enjoy your suffering. But I knew you would follow me.”

Dean found Claire sitting on the steps outside. He hadn’t been expecting it and nearly tripped over her. He gained his footing, blinked and covered his eyes with his hand, unused to the brightness of the midday sun. Then he sat down next to her.

Claire wrinkled her nose. “You still smell like a urinal.”

Dean stayed silent for a few moments, and Claire just sat there. Finally, he spoke.

“Did they… dissolve?”

Claire took her turn to stay silent. Her jaw clenched before she answered.

“I… assume so. I wasn’t with them when it happened. But I couldn’t contact either and I couldn’t find them back home.” Dean didn’t miss that she called it home. 

“Maybe they’re looking for you.”

“No. I checked for them in Sioux Falls and then went to our predetermined “doomsday” location. Waited for two days. They didn’t show.”

“Where was that?”

“Here.”

“Why didn’t you come in sooner?”

“Same reason you didn’t come out.”

Dean considered that. He knew she was right to be mad at him, and to expect more of him. He was an adult. An adult who had been through Hell and back, uphill both ways, dozens of times. And here she was, being stronger than him. She took a deep breath and spoke again, not stopping this time.

“I was on a bus. In Chicago. I had been hunting a lone vamp that was targeting young guys by getting them to take her home from a date. Easy, quick case. She was taking the bus and it was us and like, four other people, and when I got off to follow her, she just  _ vanished _ . And not like I lost her, but literally just… turned to dust. And then I heard this horrible crash and turned around to see that the bus had switched lanes and hit this giant tractor trailer, head on. I went over to check it out, and two of the people had died from the wreck. The other people were just gone, and the driver too. I had no clue what was happening, but I thought maybe witches, because people don’t just dissolve. Neither do vampires. But then people started screaming and crowds came out and I realized it was happening to everyone. Then I went straight back to Sioux Falls to find them. The hospital was an absolute mess, and no one had seen Alex. Patients who hadn’t vanished were dying because doctors and nurses vanished. It was chaos. The house was empty. Jodie’s phone was right there in the living room, all my missed calls on it. None from Alex. I think, I knew then. But I still had to check. I watched some news and some chick from Wakanda gave a statement that it was some alien shit. Half of human life, gone. Maybe more than just humans, too, something about other planets and turns out that the galaxy is a whole lot bigger than we thought. So I came here. No cars outside. Sat on the steps for two days, afraid of what I would find inside. Afraid it would be nothing. And when no one came out or came back in, I pretty much knew I was right. Surely, the Winchesters would be the first to try and make this right. But no one came. So I thought all four of you were gone.”

“Guess you were 75% right, then,” Dean said, feeling that splintering feeling again. Claire visibly winced, but kept her tone emotionless.

“Guess so.”

“Are you disappointed that it’s me?”

Claire froze up now, tensing in a way that let him know he had said the wrong thing. He shouldn’t have said it, he knew that, but his brain was still catching up with the plan of staying alive, let alone higher functioning. And he was still dehydrated as fuck.

Claire looked straight ahead, not moving a muscle. Her voice was quiet and seemed just a tad weaker. “Go take a shower, Dean. Drink some water, while you’re at it.”

He listened this time, getting up and retreating inside. He turned to look at her before walking through the door, and saw that she had drawn her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them.

When he had taken a half-hour long shower and drank at least two quarts of water while he stood there under the spray, he made his way to his room and got dressed. He avoided looking at anything. He made a trip to the kitchen and grabbed a new glass of water, drinking it slowly while leaning on the counter. By the time he had finished the glass, his hunger and fatigue hit him full force. He raided the kitchen for anything still edible. Nothing in the fridge was any good, but there were some chips in the pantry along with a couple packs of ramen. He set a pot on the stove to boil and got to work. He remembered what Claire had said before (along with some common sense) and ate slowly. He had a couple chips, and waited. A few more, then wait. A few more. Prepare the ramen. A couple of chips. His stomach felt okay, but was still roaring with hunger. He separated the ramen into two bowls and headed outside.

Claire hadn’t moved. He sat back down next to her and held out the bowl. 

“So… do you have a plan?” he asked. She shifted, took the bowl and straightened her back, crossing her legs. Her voice was hard, icy, and filled with righteous anger.

“I’m gonna go kick Captain America in his star-spangled balls and get him to figure this shit out and fix it.” Dean was slightly taken aback. 

“What makes you think he can do that?” 

“I just watched a video where he and that Wakandan military lady explained what happened. Some alien called Thanos got some fancy space rocks that control  _ literally  _ the fabric of reality, and apparently he used them to snap half the universe out of existence as part of some weird, convoluted plan to redistribute resources. Iron Man and Spider-Man got abducted by aliens, and Cap and the rest of the Avengers fought the guy here, in Wakanda, and they lost. Then Captain made some piss-poor justification of his fight with Tony Stark and tried to make it seem like he was so good now because he knew Tony had been right all along about putting a shield up to protect us or whatever. Anyway, the alien is gone, and so is half the world.” 

Dean considered this. If this was some superhero thing and not a supernatural thing, that could potentially mean it was a lot easier to fix. On the other hand, it could be a lot harder, too. He looked back to Claire.

“My question still stands. Why do you think he can fix it? They clearly already failed once.”

“You’re not wrong. But I don’t have any better ideas.” She finally looked at him, asking a question without words.

“I guess I don’t have any better ideas, either,” he said.

One location spell later, and they were packing up the car to head to the “secret” Avengers bunker-  _ thing  _ in New York, outside of the city. Claire had cleaned up the beers and water, and Dean had found a couple of Sam’s water bottles to fill up and take with them. He very resolutely didn’t think about Sam, though. Just water. Only water.

When they both got in, he started the car and pulled out of the garage. At the end of the driveway, he paused. He and Claire shared a steely gaze, and then both looked straight ahead.

“Let’s go kick some star-spangled balls,” Dean said. 

“Fuckin’ ace,” Claire agreed. She grabbed a tape, shoved it in, and turned up the volume. Finally, they were off.


	3. Thunderstruck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Claire meet the Avengers. The grenade launcher makes an appearance. Rocket Raccoon befuddles even the best of hunters.

Dean decided two days into their trip that one thing he appreciated about Claire was that she didn't feel the need to fill a silence.

He also liked that she didn't get a disgusted look on her face when he bought a bunch of junk food for the road. That would be fairly hypocritical of her, considering her own growing pile of Slim-Jim wrappers stuffed in an empty soda cup. But thinking down that route just made him feel like shit, an all consuming guilt that made him yearn for Sam's banana peels and judgmental comments about cholesterol. Or Castiel's less-judgy informational bits about the nutrients contained in a bag of pork rinds. Yeah. So no thinking about how much he appreciated Claire's taste for junk food.

He did enjoy their silence though. For the whole first day of the trip, Claire simply kept the cassettes rolling. They didn't really need to talk about anything. That night they checked into a motel. Dean almost insisted on different motels or at least checking in an hour or two apart; Claire may no longer be a teen but it was still creepy enough that he didn't want anyone to get any ideas. But since the town they stopped in, like all the rest, was dealing with the immediate aftermath of... whatever this was, only one motel was open. And it was nearly booked solid. So, father-and-daughter story it was. Turns out, their concern was unnecessary given the state of things. Plenty of families looking for members who were dusted or who lived in other places and weren't answering phones. 

Before they could leave the next morning, a hunter in Chicago called Dean for some help with a mass of Changelings that had retreated to the city where their mother was. As exasperating as it was, they took the detour knowing that hunter numbers were probably lower than ever, though neither of them had the morale at the moment to check on that. Three versus eleven turned out to be a lot harder than it looked, and it looked damn impossible. Tracking the mother once she realized they were on to her took about a week and a half. By the time they had finally burned the bitch, they were a little worse for the wear. Claire actually had two broken ribs. After some slightly forced recovery, Dean finally relented and resumed their journey, with Claire under strict oath not to strain herself, even if it meant  not beating up Captain America on sight. Not that she could have or that Dean would have let her try anyway, but he's sure she would have at least gone for one solid punch before anyone could intervene. So he made her lay down for around a week, in a new motel, which was one of the most unpleasant weeks of his life. Her constant glares, occasional cursing and hurtful comments, and daily attempts to get up and get going were nothing compared to the burning guilt, and petrifying fear that anything that could fix all this was beyond their capabilities.

Now, back in the car with a grumpy but marginally-less-murderous young adult in tow, he mostly just felt the fear. What if the Avengers couldn't help? Tony Stark wasn't even here and he was basically their leader, right? Yeah, yeah, Captain America was around but he failed, and everyone knew that Tony basically ran the team, even if Cap called most of the shots on the battlefield. The Avengers tried to stay out of the limelight, anyway, unless there was some major threat, like Loki or Ultron, or some of the secret leftover Hydra shit. They were like lazier, shittier hunters. It would be like if Sam and Dean only got up for big shit like new rogue demons taking over Hell or the Apocalypse 7.0, and let vigilantes like Spiderman or that red-leather guy deal with all the minor baddies, like vamps and spirits. 

Dean thinks about and realizes that this isn't far off from the idea of letting Claire or younger hunters handle lower-level stuff, but if the Winchester's can, they will and do hunt everything. Elitism in choices of hunt is not a blessing that hunter's generally receive. They've hunted obscure creatures, every run-of-the-mill baddie in the book, goddamn insane humans, and everything else under the sun. Unlike the Avengers. Dean knows he is being a little harsh and irrational but he needs to put his fear and guilt somewhere, and the only option he sees is frustration and blame toward the Avengers.

At least Claire seems to agree with him. 

As much as he hates to do so, he stretches this leg of the trip into two days instead of one. Every fiber of his being wants to drive, stay occupied and forget about resting until this mess was fixed. But Claire was obviously uncomfortable, even though she would never admit it and actively cursed him out when he did pull into yet another motel. Some day she would forgive him. He hopes.

So, nearly a month after the actual dusting, they finally arrived at the compound. It looked like fucking Area 51 or some shit with how heavily guarded it looked, but everything was deserted. They pulled up just inside the tree line on their one lane road, a few meters short of what looked like an impenetrable back gate. 

"Think they have cameras on us?" Claire asked, with a gesture to the neat column of cameras pointing every direction on the left side of the gate.

"Maybe so, but no lights or movement on any of them? I think it's powered down. Or at least idle."

"Think it's worth the risk of trying to break in? This is Stark tech, after all. And we do  kinda  come in peace," she leveled.

"No, no, no- not kinda, we definitely come in peace. I swear to god if you go in there fists flailing I will bench your ass till the ribs are completely healed."

"You can't tell me what to do, Dean," she sighed.

"Yeah, watch me," Dean retorted, climbing out to go to the trunk. Claire followed him, trying to move smoothly but grunting in pain when she stood up.

"Claire for fuck's sake-" She walked around to look at the trunk with him, pulling out a pile of papers with various spells written on them. She didn't answer. Dean steeled himself and tried again, gentler this time.

"C'mon kid, I know this isn't the best situation-" Claire interrupted him then, monotonous and cold.

"You're not my dad. Shut up and stop acting like you are." She rifled through the papers more. Dean saw red then.

"Close enough! I know you have issues, kid, fuck, I have a laundry list of them too. We are in the shits right now. It fucking sucks what's going on but you being a dick about it isn't gonna change that! Jody, Sam, Jack, C-," his voice cracked and got watery, but he pushed on, angrier now, "Cas, they're all gone! I'm all you've got right now. And you're all I have too. So, please, Claire, just work with me, not against me on this. I really can't handle anything else at this point." Claire looked dumbstruck. With her actually compliant for the moment, he huffed, and yanked the paper she was looking for out of her stack. A cloaking spell. 

Some symbols drawn on the Impala with water-based paint, and then their own arms with sharpie. They didn't think the Avengers would actually be hostile, but who knows what automated shit would try to keep them out or shoot them before they even got in. And maybe they wouldn't even let them in if they told them the truth. How many people were like them, coming to the Avengers for help? 

Cloaking spells in place, Dean slowly approached the gate, hands up just in case. Closer, he pulled out another spell, one that Cas had adapted for him after a witch case a while back. One little symbol on the electrical panel, and it shorted out momentarily and the gate opened. Easy peasy. 

They got back in the car and drove in. The gate closed behind them, back to its normal state of operation. The road inside the gate was deceptively long, but they eventually rolled up to the back of the compound. Nothing came out to greet them. Dean drove around side of the building, following the driveway. 

He and Claire's jaws both dropped when they finally got around to the front of the building. In the yard was a literal space ship. It was massive, and the hatch was open, with a big ramp down to the ground. There was no one around though, no one coming out or going in. Just a big empty space ship.

Claire audibly swallowed, and Dean felt some sympathy cut through the anger and tension. This might be bigger than any of the shit that he's walked into, let alone her.

"Would it be in any way useful to attempt to persuade you to stay here?" Dean tried. 

"Not a chance. If the big bad martian is here, I want a piece of it."

"Claire."

Her face softened. "Broken ribs. Yeah, I know. At least let me carry the grenade launcher?" A hint of a smile, the first he had seen since she showed up back at the bunker, ghosted her face. He felt his own crop up, too. 

"I mean, if we're about to face Alien-Dick himself..." He felt himself giving in, excited as her smile began to grow. It was the first ounce of joy he had seen or felt in days. "Hold it on your good side, okay?"

"Yes! Holy shit, this is gonna be awesome."

"Don't say that yet, maybe grenades don't work on aliens."

"Grenades work on everything, Dean." 

"Whatever you say." They got out, went to the trunk and geared up. Dean saddled Claire with the grenade launcher and a small handgun, warning her about the kickback from the launcher. She rolled her eyes but braced the weapon opposite her bad ribs. For himself, he had his own gun, and for good measure, the Colt, along with Castiel's angel blade in his sleeve, and a few hex bags in his pockets that produced small explosions with a little Celtic spoken aloud. He trusted Claire with the grenades, which spoke volumes about her growth as a hunter but also his confidence in her mental state. Armored up and still cloaked by the spell, they crept up to the door. The same spell from the gate opened the door easily enough. No alarms went off, and they crept inside. The first thing they heard was voices. Not far down the hall, they found a staircase. Up one floor and down another hall, they found the source. Sneaking up noiselessly, they peeked in to see a gruesome sight. Tony Stark, emaciated and sickly, was standing up, ripping out an IV and poking Captain America in the chest, yelling at him. Then he ripped off the arc reactor, turned around and promptly collapsed, and everyone was panicking. A blonde lady that Dean recognized as Pepper Potts, along with a black guy who he had seen with Tony on TV once or twice, came and helped him up and wheeled him away. The rest of the Avengers, along with a blue skinned girl were left in the room, silent. Dean looked to Claire and mouthed "three." They counted silently, then stalked calmly into the room, weapons not up but held ready. Every eye turned to them and Captain America and Black Widow immediately assumed defensive positions. Thor held up his... not hammer, but an axe? That was new. And a petite girl with dirty blonde hair stalked to the front of the group with her hands on her hips. Steve gave her a wary look before bringing his eyes back to Dean. They could also see Bruce Banner, and a fucking raccoon of all things. Tony and the other two had disappeared through another door.

"I'm gonna ask this one time. Who are you, and how did you get in here?" The Captain's voice was steely and self-righteous and it made Dean's blood boil. All that displaced guilt, self-hatred, regret and fear came back full force. He almost couldn't speak, it overwhelmed him so much. Claire luckily had found that angry and domineering tone back that made him more than a little proud of her.

"We're hunters. We came in through the gates. Your little fight with that intergalactic dick got our family turned to dust. We want to know how you plan to fix it." She finished with an evil smirk, but Dean knew she felt no joy, just fear.

Bruce spoke up from the back. "The security here is flawless. Even unmanned no one can get in unless they have specific authorization." He stepped forward, not green at all but still intimidating in a way that seemed unfitting of the friendly-looking guy. "So let's try again. How did you get in?"

Thor raised his axe a little higher and blonde chick and Black Widow both took steps forward. Dean took a step in front of Claire then, ignoring her rolled eyes.

"Like she said, we're hunters. We have spells that keep us from being detected, and stuff to get through your gates. Not because we mean you harm, but in case you tried to turn us away."

"You're really doing a lot to make us want to take you in." Black Widow said dryly. 

"Is that a  grenade launcher? " came a voice from their right, and Dean nearly dropped his gun altogether when he saw that it had come from the raccoon, who jumped up and walked over to Claire. She stumbled back a little but and it- he? Just stayed there and checked out the weapon. "You brought a fucking grenade launcher and you want us to believe you don't wanna smack us around a bit?" He laughed a mean, mocking laugh and the blue lady in the back finally stood up, walking around to Captain America's side. 

"Why do you have these weapons?" she asked.

"We were just gonna go with the basics but when we saw the space ship outside-" Claire shrugged, though the nonchalance of it was dampened by the grenade launcher.

"You thought Thanos might be in here," the raccoon grizzled out. He chuckled with no humor. "Supposed that's fair. Well for fuck's sake put the goddamn guns away. We aren't Thanos and we want him dead as much as you do." Dean could swear that the only look on his face was screaming  what the fuck , as he stared at the raccoon that stalked away, hopping up onto the table to stand next to the blue girl.

Claire lowered the weapon and clicked the safety on. She shouldered it on her back. Dean stowed his gun back in his waistband, safety on. 

"You brought a grenade launcher?" Bruce said shakily. 

Claire shrugged again. Dean huffed a chuckle at her and the dumbfounded look on Bruce's face.

"Well we don't exactly have a ton of alien-killing Stark tech lying around, had to be prepared for everything." Dean offered, smirking a little. Steve just looked at the floor, jaw flexing angrily. Dean felt little sympathy for him, though. Black Widow came forward, hands raised in a placating way.

"We're working on a plan. We know you're upset, everybody is. We're going to fix it."

Claire rolled her eyes, and Black Widow looked taken aback but quickly schooled her expression to neutral. "Yeah, we wanna know  how , and what we can do. We're fresh out of a clue, so it would be nice to get some help from the people who actually fought the monster, even if they did... lose." She finished quieter, but no less harsh. Black Widow's gaze went from neutral to furious and her stance went rigid, and Captain America and Bruce Banner visibly flinched. Thor stepped forward menacingly.

"We have no need of your help. You are mortal, midgardians with no abilities that can be of use. This is not your fight." He growled. Dean attempted to shuffle Claire further behind him, ready to take on the fucking god of thunder if he so much as raised a hand to her.

She unceremoniously shrugged away from his arm and walked up to Thor, alternating between glaring at him and Black Widow. Dean put his hand behind him, on the gun again, as she squared up to  fucking Thor . 

"This damn well is my fight. It's everyone's fight. My family is gone, and every other sucker whose still left on this goddamn planet and every other one, it's their fight too. But the rest of them out there? They can't do much. The two if us may be humans, but we're probably two of the only humans in existence who can actually teach you a thing or two. So why don't you shove this belittling 'midgardian' crap right up your ass, along with that giant axe and give it a good twist, cause we are gonna fucking do something about this 'Thanos' whether you help us or not. I'd certainly prefer the help." This whole time she had inched closer to him, and by the end of her rant, she was staring almost straight up at his face, wearing a look of challenge like no other, daring Thor to deny her again.

Then the raccoon burst out laughing again. "I like this girl," he wheezed. 

Thor simply turned around and walked out. The small blonde woman followed. Claire was angry, and turned to Black Widow and Captain America. 

"Like I said earlier, we're hunters. I guess you don't know what that means?"

"Not specifically, no," the Captain answered.

"You said you had spells, though. What did you mean, spells?" Black Widow asked, again schooling her expression to neutral, though Dean could see the tightness in her temples and jaw. He spoke up then.

"You guys got security footage? Like cameras and shit?" He asked. 

"Of course," she responded cooly.

"If you wanna show us the video, we can show you the spell," he offered. 

"Leave the weapons in here, and we'll take you," she countered.

"I don't trust the raccoon. He's been eyeing the launcher since we came in," Claire piped up.

"Ah, leave it, I've got way better on my ship anyway," he groused. 

"I'll keep an eye on your possessions," Bruce Banner offered. "It would make us feel better if you weren't armed, at least until we can trust you a bit more." Dean shared a look with Claire, and they both sighed. Removing their weapons, grenade launcher, handguns, the Colt, the angel blade, the hex bags, and even a medium sized knife that Claire hid in an ankle holster were all placed on the table in front of Bruce. Black Widow looked impressed. Captain America looked sick.

"Don't mess with those bags, pal. You do not wanna see what's inside," Dean muttered to Bruce. Black Widow proceeded to the door they came in, and waited for them. When they followed, the Captain brought up the rear. Blue girl, the raccoon, and Bruce stayed behind. 

Black Widow led them further down the hall to a room full of panels, and Dean found what he was looking for quickly. 

"This is the front door?" he checked. Black Widow only nodded. "Yeah see, here's the corner of that space ship. Our car is parked right there," he pointed to the empty space. "But, because of these symbols, we are invisible and untraceable to most technology and magic. It takes a similar spell to best this one, which we assume you guys don't have. Is one of these- aha! Look, here you are. Control Room F. You and the Captain, no us."

Black Widow narrowed her eyes at the screen. The Captain flexed his jaw angrily again, and Dean felt a momentary flutter of his normal fanboy-self come through. It went away almost immediately, but it was there.

"But when we cross through the symbols," Claire began, taking a sharpie from her pocket, "watch the screen, and we'll be back on it." Like she said, crossing the symbols out made them reappear, and the two Avengers were once again dumbstruck. 

"Fine. So you have magic. What are you?" The Captain interrogated.

"Human, pal. Just human. But we hunt things that aren't. Demons, werewolves, vampires, the like," Dean explained. Captain America then had the audacity to roll his eyes. Black Widow smacked his shoulder.

"What? You telling me you believe this, Nat?" 

"Yeah, I do." Dean and Claire were both shocked to say the least, but Black Widow's expression had finally morphed into something... almost friendly. Understanding. Something clicked for Dean, then.

"You've dealt with something before, huh?"

"Not me. A friend. But he knows what he saw, and that it shouldn't have been possible. And a random human saving the day? Yeah. I believe you." She said calmly.

The Captain looked even more nauseated than before. "Demons? Vampires? Are you serious?"

"Deadly," Claire said with no humor. Black Widow smirked a little though, which made Claire stand up a little straighter.

"Jesus Christ," Captain America muttered, walking out of the room. Now it was just Dean and Claire, facing Black Widow as she leaned back on the table, trying to get a read on them, Dean supposed.

"So, uh, if you believe us, what do we do now, Black Widow?" Claire finally asked, breaking the silence.

"We don't know yet. But maybe you can help is figure it out," she answered. She gestured toward the door and followed Dean and Claire out, letting them lead the way back the other room. 

"And call me Natasha," she added quietly from behind them. Dean looked down at Claire, and saw her smile. For the first time, he let the tiniest inkling of hope come through his head. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder that I'm not anti-Cap, so don't think I'm hating on him just yet ;) 
> 
> Also i wrote this on my phone so forgive any typos or formatting inconsistencies.


	4. Cold As Ice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry everybody for the long wait! Here you go, a new chapter. I'm trying to keep the chapter titles as the names of rock songs lol but thats a bit difficult.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey so remember how i said it took almost a month for Dean and Claire to get there? well the timeline is loosely constructed. I know in the movie, tony was brought back after 23 days and I'm not sure how long passed between his arrival and them finding thanos when he used the stones again, so take it with a grain of salt!

"Wait!" Claire exclaimed as they approached the room where the others were waiting. "Miss Black Widow- I mean, Natasha," Claire blushed a little and Dean almost laughed. But then Claire turned her eyes on Dean and gave him a very pointed look. He realized what she was getting at when she widened her eyes and raised her brows.

"Oh, shit," Dean said, reaching out for Natasha's arm. She sidestepped his reach with an impressive glare, and he awkwardly let his hand fall. "Uh, listen, Natasha- we just need to know, who is the blue chick?"

"An alien. Actually the daughter of Thanos. But she wants him dead as much as we do. Apparently he was a shitty father."

Claire cleared her throat, "And, uh... have her eyes been like that since you met her?"

Natasha was quiet for a minute. "You think she is a demon?"

"So you know about demons?" Dean pressed.

"Like I said, a friend of mine dealt with this shit a while back. I've only heard the stories, but black eyes is a demon thing, right?"

"Yeah, you're right," Claire responded, smiling approvingly. Her smile fell, though, as she continued. "So, blue lady. Demon, or not?"

"You know, I haven't really thought about it. I guess it's not impossible, but I don't really think so. She's.... driven. And a bit violent. But I think that's mostly just how she was raised. I don't think she is genuinely evil. Though I've only known her for a day." 

"Well, we should check to be sure," Dean leveled. 

"How do you do that?"

"Holy water, saying the name of God in Latin, we have a special knife that kills them, though sometimes if you piss them off they reveal themselves anyway."

"Well, try whatever is least likely to piss her off. As far as we know, she's on our side. Even if she is a demon." Natasha maintained her steady gaze, and he and Claire nodded. They kept heading back, approaching the doorway. Dean honestly felt a little intimidated by Natasha. He had been to hell, killed death, looked God in the eye, and this woman kind of frightened him. It's a feeling kind of like when Cas goes all "angel's are warriors" instead of the usual clueless non-human routine. 

Whoa. That... that was the first time he'd thought about Cas without feeling that cringe in his chest. Of course, now it was there that he was dwelling on it. And of course the feeling made him remember that Cas, Sam, Jack, Jodie, all of them were gone and now he was feeling a little light-headed, that cringe in his chest was growing painful, and he felt like he couldn't breathe, black was spotting up in his vision... 

"....Dean! Dean! What the fuck, Dean? Can you hear me? Get up, Dean." Claire's voice started cutting through the fog in his head. He looked up, realizing that he was on the ground. He saw faces but they were swimming in his vision, he couldn't make them be still. He closed his eyes. Focused on what he could feel. He was leaning against the wall. Sitting on the floor. He must have sat down. But the demon! Or potential Demon, whatever. Dean's eyes shot open and focused on the faces. They were blurry and not quite still yet, but he found the blue chick on his right.

"Christo!" he gasped, but his voice was raspy and out of breath. Blue lady just stared at him.

"This again?" She asked, somehow sounding bored and judgmental at the same time.

"Dean, I already checked her. You spazzed out. What happened?" Claire was as harsh as ever, but he could detect the growing concern in her voice. 

"I believe he is suffering from a panic attack. Tony had multiple episodes like this while we were trapped on the ship." Blue lady gazed at him pensively, like he was bug under a microscope. It made him feel uncomfortable. At least the fog in his head and the spots in his vision were clearing though. And everything had stopped moving.

"Yeah, you're probably right," a voice to the left said. Bruce. Bruce Banner said that.

"Dean, what is up, man? Has this happened before?" Claire actually didn't put as much work into sounding stoic. She sounded worried. Then he realized she asked him a question.

"Uh... Not recently? I guess.. after hell, and then every so often, but it's usually not this bad. Usually it's just a bad feeling and I keep doing whatever I'm doing."

"So it hasn't happened since everyone disappeared?" Bruce asked. Claire flinched, and the pain in his chest flared a little bit.

"I guess not, doc," Dean rasped. He made a move to get up and everyone simultaneously put a hand on him, which just made him freak out more. He pushed off all the hands and stood up, placing a hand on the wall to steady himself and swatting at Bruce's attempt to support him at the elbow.

"So you're not a demon, huh?" he asked the blue lady, ignoring everything else. He really should learn if she has a name. Bruce and Claire got strained looks on their faces when he changed the subject. Natasha looked stoic as ever, but she was staring at him intensely.

"Your apprentice has already verified this, both by saying the same word, _christo_, and by requesting that I touch water which has apparently been sanctified."

"Whoa, hold up, I am not his apprentice," Claire announced.

"Unimportant," blue lady continued, as Claire scoffed. "What matters is that I am not a demon. Though, I suppose, in your point of view, I am an alien." Her voice really was menacing, even if she wasn't evil. Dean shivered a bit. 

"Cool deal. So, now that you guys know we're legit, what's the move on Thanos?" Dean asked, moving over to the table to sit down, gently shoving his way between Claire and Natasha, who raised her eyebrows at him. He shivered again.

"Dean, I know that I'm not really the poster child for this, but you should take it easy," Claire said.

"You're right, you're not the poster child for that," he snarked. "Bruce? Natasha? Bl- Uh, I didn't catch your name?" He directed at the blue meanie. 

"Nebula," she responded.

"Galactic. Cool. Well, you three, what's the move? And where did Captain America go? And the, uh, raccoon?" He looked around, and took in more of the room. It looked like a conference room of sorts. There was holographic stuff going on, some long tables, chairs. Before his question could be answered, from the far corner, a door opened and through it walked the black guy from earlier. 

"Tony is fine, he's resting now and Pepper's with him. What... what happened here? Who are they?" he asked, moving toward Natasha, Bruce and Nebula where they had grouped together. Claire stood awkwardly to the side and the new guy looked at her, then Dean again.

"Hey, I'm Dean," he volunteered. 

"Claire," Claire added flatly.

The guy seemed to take this in, and with a glance at all the weapons piled on the table, then toward the other three, accepted it without question. He seemed exasperated. 

"Alright, then." He turned to the others. "Where's everyone else?"

"Danvers and Thor were out as soon as these guys came in. Steve left a little bit later, probably went to join them, wherever they are," Natasha answered. "Rocket, too, I guess."

"Okay then. Well the Captain can go shit a brick for all I care, but I'm sure the he'd like to be present to discuss what's gonna happen next, now that we have... Dean and Claire." Claire raised her chin at him, as if challenging him to question her presence here. He looked... almost chastised for a moment. Regaining his composure almost instantly, he continued, "Yeah, Dean and Claire. So if we can get everyone back that would be great."

"I will go retrieve Rocket. I'm sure he has returned to our ship," Nebula stated before stalking off. 

"I'll grab Cap from wherever he is, he'll probably be least pissed to see me," Bruce volunteered. "He's probably back in his room or something."

"Thor and Danvers are stewing in the room across the hall," Claire piped up.

"And you know that how?" the guy asked. Claire glared at him.

"The door across the hall was open when we came in. It was closed when we went out to see the security footage. It's still closed." Claire said all this through gritted teeth. Once again, Dean thought the guy looked a little freaked out by her. Maybe not Claire in and of herself, but the fact that so much anger and hostility could come from someone so small. Then again, this guy did hang out with Black Widow, so what did Dean know? 

"Ooookay, then. I'll grab them," the guy responds. "Is all this shit yours?" he asks, gesturing to the weapons on his way to the door.

"Yeah, we'll uh, put that away," Dean says with a forced smile. The guy smiles back in that tight-lipped way, equally forced, then ducks out and knocks on the door across the hall. Claire then accompanies him to the table and starts stowing weapons, leaving the bulkier ones that would make sitting uncomfortable. Dean takes those and places them on a smaller table by the door. In a couple of minutes, everyone returns with their charges. Almost everyone goes to sit at the table, but the raccoon stands to the side.

"Hey blondie, c'mere," he says, carrying something huge and vaguely gun-shaped. Claire looks slightly shaken, but makes her way over. 

"Check this out," he begins, gesturing to various parts and explaining their purpose. Claire seems afraid to get too close at first, but then gets into it. Almost a minute passes and she starts asking questions, when Captain America clears his throat. Dean chuckles a bit, which earns him a few seconds under the Captain's glare. 

"Chill out, beefcake," the raccoon grouses. "I'm just showing her some space gadgets, beats her wimpy little grenade launcher." The captain facepalms and Thor and Danvers both sigh with exasperation. Bruce just looks concerned. Claire is offended, though.

"Hey! My grenade launcher is not wimpy," she defends, but now she's fighting a smile. 

"Well, we can compare guns later, you two," Natasha says, significantly kinder than Captain America but still with an air of impatience. To Dean's complete and utter shock, Claire immediately complies without a trace of defiance.

"Yes ma'am," she mumbles before rushing to the table. Natasha looks surprised, as does Captain America. It clicks for Dean at that moment, and his eyes light up, flitting between Claire and Natasha. Claire catches him though, and makes a slashing motion over her throat. He almost laughs, but catches himself and disguises it as a cough, which absolutely zero people in the room buy. Amidst all the confused or irritated looks, Rocket sits down, having left the large ray gun with the grenade launcher and other weapons.

"Alright. The blushing teen and I are done for now. Proceed," he says, causing Claire to actually blush and cast her gaze down to the table.

Cap runs his hand down his face as if stroking some imaginary beard. The black guy begins talking. 

"I guess, introductions are in order? It seems that you all have met, but-" He's interrupted by the corner door opening again, and the blonde lady stepping out. 

"Rhodey? Tony's still asleep. What's going on? Who are they?"

"Perfect, you're right in time for intros, Pepper. How about we just go around the circle?" he asks. Pretty much everyone looks like they would rather do anything but that, but they seem to consider him very much a leader, and when Pepper sits down next to him and survey's the room expectantly, they all fold. "I'll start," he offers. "I'm Colonel James Rhodes, but as you just heard, some people call me Rhodey. Pepper and Tony have that privilege," he says pointedly. "Otherwise, you can call me Rhodes. I fly the War Machine." He turns to Pepper.

"Pepper Potts, CEO of Stark Industries, or what's left of it," she says, and leaves it at that. Dean nods, and they all turn their gazes to Natasha, who is on Pepper's left. 

"Natasha, but you knew that." Claire glances up, and Natasha winks at her. Her face is like a tomato, and Captain America facepalms again. "Otherwise known as Black Widow." She turns to the Captain and glares disapprovingly. 

"Rogers," is all he says.

"Steve, stop being an ass," Pepper says icily. Every eye in the room turns to her, and then back to Steve. She fixes him with a challenging, unwavering stare. He looks at her, chews his lip a moment, and then starts again, apparently not willing to challenge her. "Steve Rogers. Used to be Captain America. Been on the run a while now," he says, glancing quickly at Rhodes, who raises his eyebrows as if to say _And whose fault is that?_

When Steve says nothing else, Bruce follows with his own introduction. "I'm uh, Bruce Banner. I've only been back on earth for a month or so, I was stuck on a trash planet for a while... Thor found me," he says with a nod toward the god. "I'm uh, also the Hulk, I guess," he says, looking down. Dean tries to smile at him, because he's actually been reasonably polite after they got past the 'who are you and how did you get in here' crap. He smiles back, but it looks more like a grimace. Claire is to his left, and she goes next, her confidence back and her face only slightly pink now.

"My name is Claire. I'm a hunter. That means I kill monsters and shit, things that most people don't believe in."

"Where are you from, Claire?" Pepper asks politely, like this is get-to-know-you hour at summer camp. Dean gathers that she is intimidating when she needs to be, but he doubts anyone would challenge her or ignore her, including Claire. He's right.

"Illinois. But after my dad kind of got possessed by an angel and my mom freaked out and went off the rails, and then killed by a different angel, I lived all over the place. Then I found my... family, in Sioux Falls," she trails off quietly. "That's where I'm from now," she finishes, staring at the table again.

To Claire's left is the raccoon. "First and foremost, don't call me a raccoon," he starts with a growl. "I know you were both thinking it." Claire actually smirks a little bit, and the... not-raccoon softens a bit. "Name's Rocket. I'm part of a group called the Guardians of the Galaxy. Or, was a part... anyway, I'm kind of a weapons extraordinaire, Captain- well, Co-Captain of my ship, and I'm a genius."

"And very humble," blonde lady says with a smirk.

"Watch it, blondie," he growls out. She laughs, but her expression falls when she realizes its her turn.

"Carol Danvers. I was an air force officer, got powers from one of the infinity stones, was abducted and brainwashed by aliens, liberated a different alien race with the help of Nick Fury, and now I go by the alias Captain Marvel." She stops there and it's clear she isn't gonna say anything else.

To her left is Thor, followed by Dean. Dean starts to feel a little nervous, which is completely irrational. He has faced every scary thing, being, or situation that has ever existed and he's nervous in front of superheroes. 

"Thor. God of Thunder. I was with Banner on the trash planet, then my own planet was destroyed, and almost my entire civilization was murdered by Thanos. I lost my hammer some time ago so the rabbit," he motioned to Rocket, which was confusing for Dean and Claire, but not as much as what Thor said next, "-his adolescent tree offspring and I went and forged this axe. I chopped through Thanos' chest, into his heart, which was insufficient. My failure allowed him to complete his plan." Everyone sort of looked away from Thor in that moment. His voice was dark, harsh, and low. "Even more of my people were lost when he snapped his fingers."

Dean waited, but it was clear he was done with his bit. Well, that would be fun to follow. He considered just keeping it short and sweet, but Pepper fixed him with an intimidating stare, so he let his brain kick into overdrive.

"I'm also a hunter, like Claire. My name is Dean. I hunt... with my brother," he took a deep breath and focused on calming his anxiety and not going into another panic attack. He felt almost detached as he continued, his mind seemingly watching the scene unfold from outside his body. "The angel that possessed her dad," he said, motioning to Claire, "kind of became a part of our little team. We also kind of adopted the son of Lucifer aka the devil, who is a nephilim, half angel, half human, whose mother was hooking up with the President, scandal alert. All three of them.... yeah. Anyway. I've been to literal hell, like, fire and brimstone hell where I was tortured for 30 years and then tortured other souls for 10 years, I killed Death, as in the actual granddaddy grim reaper, stopped the biblical apocalypse, prevented alternate reality Archangels from restarting the apocalypse in this world, was possessed by an archangel, handled that like a boss, stopped a bunch of angels from taking over the world, oh you guys remember Dick Roman? Yeah he was a scary black goo creature from Purgatory, which, spoiler alert, I've been to; anyway, I handled him, and that whole army of gross, uh, met God, he's apparently a dick and abandoned humanity forever ago, met his sister, she kind of molested me in more ways than one, I met Cain from the bible and took on the Mark of Cain, made me very murder-y for a while, turned me into a demon briefly after I died thanks to another angel, which, most of them are dickbags anyway, and turning into a demon is different than being possessed by one, then I did some shit with the King of Hell, who sacrificed himself eventually to help us, which surprised everyone. Anyway, I've seen some shit and this ain't even the half of it. And now I'm here." Still floating outside of his own mind, Dean smiled without emotion, leaned back, and opened his arms to gesture to the table at large. Everyone was staring, wide-eyed and open mouthed. Even Natasha's facade was broken. Rocket kept glancing between him and Thor.

"Gotta say, that sounds even worse than Thunder-man here," Rocket said incredulously. Thor only huffed and resumed glaring at the table.

"I don't even know where to begin with all that," Natasha said, shaking her head as if she couldn't process her own thoughts. 

"How much of that was Claire present for?" Rhodes asked him, but then he turned to Claire as if awaiting her answer instead of Dean's. Pepper turned too, which was probably the motivating factor that made Claire actually answer.

"Bits and pieces. The angel that wears my Dad's body was there for a lot of it, but I've been kinda doing my own thing. We get in touch when we need backup, that sort of thing. He and his brother are close with my mo-," Claire chokes off as if she just swallowed sand. "Anyway. It's all like a big extended family, but I wasn't on the front lines for most of the big stuff." Everyone caught her slip, but no one called her on it.

The room was silent for at least ten seconds. Rhodes and Pepper lowered their eyes away from Claire. When the silence had stretched a ridiculous amount, Nebula spoke up.

"As you are aware, I am Nebula. Thanos stole me from my birth parents and my home, and raised me as his own daughter. He trained me as a warrior, replacing parts of my body whenever I would fail. For much time, I worked for him and shared his vision. I have since learned the error of my ways. He stole my sister, who I only recently gained back from pushing her away myself. For her, and for all the torture he inflicted on me, I will destroy Thanos with a thousand times the ferocity and mercilessness he showed me." Bruce, Dean, and Rhodes all shuddered at the end of her speech. Everyone else was more or less stoic, but Dean could see some wariness in Claire's face.

"Right, thank you Nebula," Rhodes said. "So... we're all acquainted now. Tony is in the other room. He and Nebula were trapped on a damaged ship in space after they both fought Thanos. Nebula fared better than Tony could after they went a few weeks without food, and eventually water and oxygen. Carol saved them, and returned the ship here. Tony is still in very bad shape, but he'll be alright. A lot of our... company, colleagues, well, they were lost to the... events of Thanos. We want to get them back and stop Thanos from ever doing anything like this again. The trouble is, we don't know where he is or how to get to him, or how to face him when we do find him, because as far as we know, he still has the stones. He's bested us once with them, he could probably do it again. We just don't know."

Rocket spoke up. "I know how we can look for him. If he uses those stones, I'll be able to tell."

"Excellent. Then let's get a plan together." Rhodes looked around the table, then focused on Carol, who nodded approvingly. 

"Here's what we do," she started out, continuing with strategy. Dean and Claire both leaned in, and prepared to join the actual fucking _Avengers_ to take down this crap sack. They were gonna get their family back. _This is it_, Dean thinks. _This is it._


	5. Gimme Shelter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens after. What will they do from here? Featuring a new character intro that I am super excited about!

“What did you do?”

“I went for the head.”

Silence crushed the group from all sides. The lifeless head practically mocked them from the corner where it sat. The stones were gone.

There was a loud crash, and everyone startled. Claire’s weapon, a modified energy canon that she and Rocket had rigged from the grenade launcher, was discarded on the ground. She was gone already, her footsteps quick and purposeful as they faded away. Dean made to follow her, but Natasha puts a hand out to stop him.

“Dean… let me?” She phrased it like a question. He didn’t say that he needed to be doing something right now, focusing his energy into somebody else, or else the reality would come crashing down. He didn’t say that Claire was his last avenue of denial, that fighting with her or letting her scream at him would be the last thing from his old life that could let him pretend even for a second that none of this was happening. But looking at Natasha, Black Widow, who he only met because of this mess, he can’t pretend. This woman wouldn’t even be in his life if not for the mess that he finally has to accept, that his family, except for Claire, is gone. Natasha seems to take his speechlessness as confirmation, because she whisks away after Claire. How can she be so composed? It has to be a mask. Perfected from years of practice. Just like Dean’s own mask from hunting. But in that last look at Natasha’s face he got before she left to follow Claire, Dean could see the cracks forming. Cracks that had ghosted her face in their weeks of preparation and searching, now solidified. They may be small, but they were there.

And in that moment of realization, Dean’s mask went on. And he resolutely decided, it wouldn’t come off. His cracks wouldn’t show. He would move through this, like anything else. Rowena was either dusted or off the grid, and the eight crossroad demons he managed to contact were unable to do anything about this, nor were they in any shape to get a superior officer involved. He had thought of every spell, threatened four separate witches, and tried every supernatural trick he could think of in the last few days. Hell was in shambles, heaven probably was too, and now the whole universe. Who knows if Chuck even could be of use, if he ever gets back from fucking off and ditching Earth for the millionth time. But none of this touches deeper than the surface for Dean. In the five seconds he has begun to process, his mask has formed and hardened. What would have torn him apart only days ago now just seems like simple facts. Feeling solid now, he knows his composure won’t falter. Not like that panic attack. Not like after Hell, when it took its toll in nightmares, paranoia, and anxiety. Not like when Sam got stabbed in the back. Or when Sam went into the cage. Not like every single fucking time he saved the world and had to sacrifice something. And not like he got choked up before, saying their names. Sam, Cas, Jack, Jodie, and nearly everyone he knew and depended on, was gone. It’s just a fact.

And there was officially, unequivocally, nothing that he could do about it. He left the group where they stood, still dumbfounded and processing. He walked back to the ship, sat down in his seat, swallowed all the anxiety he had about flying in a fucking spaceship, and resolved to use this as a head start. While he waited, he closed his eyes, sat deathly still, and found himself thinking: half the monsters on Earth, already gone for him. Yippee.

~

Of course, he wasn’t prepared for Claire to have a different plan.

“I’m staying with the Avengers.” Her face looked somewhat softened, which only made it harder for him to actually accept what she was saying. This wasn’t some hot-headed last-minute decision, this wasn’t an attempt to punch her way through grieving. She thought this out. In the few days they stayed with the Avengers after killing Thanos, Okoye from Wakanda had met with Natasha and the other Avengers. Claire was invited to sit in on those meetings, where steps forward were proposed and developed. Dean was too, but he opted out. He knew what he would be doing, once it was appropriate to duck out. He didn’t want to be terribly rude about it, but he would be hitting the road eventually. He just wasn’t expecting Claire to be on board with the… less violent side of damage control.

“Uh, wow. Okay. And, you’re ahh… pretty decided on that?” he floundered.

“Yeah. Nat and Okoye have some really great ideas for what to do now. I know it’s not really my M.O., but I want to help here. It’s stuff that probably would have helped me, once upon a time, and now people need it even more than I did then. Helping kids whose parents were snapped, can’t be all that different than a dad abducted by an angel and a mom gone off the rails,” she said with a hint of a smile. “Not to mention, housing, and damage control for all the secondary stuff, like the bus crash from my vamp hunt. Stuff like that happened with planes, buildings on fire, so much more. I can do a lot here. And Nat might not be a hunter, but she offered to train me. I want to stay.” Dean was impressed. He was glad his mask was so solid, or he might have actually shown emotion because he was so proud of her. She truly was growing up from that angry, vengeful teen into a mature young adult. He did take the opportunity to tease a little bit, though.

“You sure training is all you want to do?” He waggled his eyebrows, and thankfully, instead of looking murderous, Claire simply looked sheepish.

“Shut up, Dean. She’s like ten years older than me. I had a crush, but I’m over it and now that I know her for real, it’s different. And this is serious stuff.”

“I know it is. And… for what it’s worth, I’m proud of you.” Mask still intact, the words came out rather flat, but Claire smiled, nonetheless.

“I know you have plans to keep hunting, but you know… you could stay too. I’ll probably take cases here and there just because the numbers are thin, but if we both stayed, we could both help in multiple ways. It would be efficient.”

“I won’t stay away forever. But this is how I am. I’ll handle some far away stuff and the efficiency will balance out, maybe. Anyway, I’ll be back eventually to bug you some more,” he huffed, ruffling her hair and earning himself a shove disproportionate to her size.

“You sure you won’t come back to ogle the Captain’s ass some more?” Dean actually blushed at that, hurriedly looking around to make sure no one heard before he shoved Claire back with equal fervor.

“Shut it, Novak,” he grumbled. So what if in the days after Thanos, he had been calm enough under his mask to let his fanboy admiration come out a little bit more? Just because Captain America was an ass to them when they arrived doesn’t mean he wasn’t the same jacked superhero that Dean has had a crush on since basically forever. Natasha, too, for that matter, but he was much more careful around her. She was far more intimidating, and he actually enjoyed her company. The jury on Cap was still out.

Currently he and Claire were sitting on a couch, watching old episodes of The Office in one of the common areas of the compound. The area they had chosen was mostly deserted, as they hadn’t really wanted to be around the others. Perhaps hunting differed from superhero-ing because Dean and Claire needed distraction and occupied thoughts, whereas the Avengers seemed only functional in moments of action and planning. The rest of the time, when they weren’t in meetings or discussing next steps, the Avengers moped. And while Dean and Claire _completely _understood, it just wasn’t how they functioned. If they moped, their masks would break. They wouldn’t be as good at hunting. Moping was a necessary emotional experience at times, but it made for a vulnerable hunter, even if it wasn’t a moment of action.

As it was, movies and completed series were about all that could be watched… News was bare bones because it hurt too much to talk about and half the crew were all gone, as was half the personnel from TV shows that were still airing. Dean was too hollow to really care about TV but if he had been a little less determined to keep his mask up, he would have been very disheartened that Brooklyn 99 was put on indefinite hold, and would likely be cancelled. Andy Samberg, Terry Crews, Stephanie Beatriz and Andre Braugher were all blipped. That’s what non-Avengers were calling it now. The Blip. The few who had been in Wakanda and near Thanos when it happened were calling it the Snap, but as the rest of the world hadn’t actually seen Thanos snap his fingers, Blip made a little more sense.

The TV they had picked already had Netflix logged in and they just continued where the last user had left off with The Office. After Claire had expressed her intent to stay, they got through another three or four episodes when Tony Stark weakly ambled into the room. He was leaning on a walker, but the IV bag was gone, and he had gained some weight. He was healing. And he looked downright furious.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“Just watching TV, man, is something wrong?” Dean asked tentatively, pausing the show.

“You’re gonna… in the middle of watching… you’ll lose his place, get out of here, _GO_. Get off this floor, go somewhere else. Now! _Get. Out._”

“Okay,” Claire said gently. The two of them swiftly and calmly moved from the room, but as they rounded the corner to the staircase, Dean heard a sharp sob from the common area.

~

“So, Carol and the raccoon are hitting up outer space, Okoye is heading back to Wakanda, you’re staying here to be the coordinator of basically everything, Bruce is going off to his lab and Cap is fucking off to Chuck knows where…”

“Rhodey is also going to help me, here. Pepper and Tony will be around, but no one expects them to give more than they already have,” Natasha responded. “I don’t really know where Thor went, I’m assuming to New Asgard.” Dean was trying to get as good a read on things as he could before he headed out, back to the road. Call him overprotective, but he just wanted to make sure Claire wasn’t going to be alone or strung out.

“So the compound will still be the base of everything?”

“Dean. You don’t have to worry about Claire. I know that’s what this is about. But yes, the compound will be the base. And now that we have some supernatural help, it’s even safer than ever. But I won’t control her coming and going, you know.”

“Nah, I know. I just, you know, wanted to get the details before I check out.”

“You know… this could be a home base for you, too. Like your bunker. I know you don’t want to go back there. But you could have a home here, too. With Claire, and us. If you want.” Claire, Natasha and Bruce had graciously received everything from the bunker that they could fit into a quinjet, and Claire knew how to get in if they ever needed anything else. Dean couldn’t set foot in the place.

“I’ll keep that in mind, Natasha. And like I told Claire, I’ll be around sometime. Just not right away.”

“I know, I know, you’ve gotta keep busy, hit the road, kill some monsters,” Natasha said with a smile. “But you’re a part of this now. Honorary Avenger or something. Don’t be a stranger.”

Dean nodded in agreement, smiling at the idea. Honorary Avenger. His life was getting crazier by the day. The mask was still firmly in place, and it stayed there when he finally packed up the Impala and rolled out, Claire and Natasha standing by the entrance and watching him drive away.

~

The _zing_ of machete made a grossly satisfying sound as the head of the vampire he was fighting hit the ground with a thud. For a moment, the head wasn’t some barely adult-looking vamp, but Thanos. Only a second later, the horrifying image passed, and Dean’s mask was still intact. His chest tightened, looking at the young girl. This was always a hard part of hunting. She was maybe twenty years old. But she couldn’t be cured and didn’t want to be, so he did what he had to do and let his resolve harden and his mask stay put. This was easy compared to all the dust stuff. He was shocked, however, to turn around and find a fucking sword in front of his face. The figure on the other end of the sword began to talk, and then he pretty much never stopped.

“Uh, not that I’m not about the occasional decapitation, but can I ask what this literal baby did to you? Man to man. Hombre to hombre. Just wanna know. I was kind of on a no-killing streak before this fucking dissolving crap, but hey, I sees a murderer and I got’s to know why they’s a murderer, eh?” What the fuck was this accent? Brooklyn? Boston? Canadian, right at the end? Jesus fuck. “I used to just take out whoever the biggest buyer wanted, but now I’m trying to carry on this whole benevolent legacy for a pal of mine, though I’m more R-rated to his PG-13 brand, yada yada, point is, I’m not against killing a sicko murderer. So, buckaroo, did this chick deserve to get it, huh? Cause if she didn’t, I’ll challenge you to a sword fight! Your machete, against my katanas. I’ll even let you cut off an arm first, head start,” the figure said, offering out his other arm that wasn’t holding a sword. Yet. Dean noticed the other sword sheathed on his back. The dude was in some sort of red leather body suit and the mask didn’t have a mouth, but Dean would swear it had actual emotions. It looked like it was smiling. Maniacally. Dean exhaled slowly, trying to keep his cool.

“Come on, buddyyyyyy boi, I don’t have all day and I haven’t decapitated anyone in a while, this might be fun! But I’ll have an angry arachnid ghost on my hands if I kill the wrong dude.” The person behind the mask looks up a little bit, eyes of the mask following and focusing in the weirdest way possible, as if he were addressing the space over his shoulders. He continues, “_Yes, I know he’s not really an arachnid-_ Of course I’m joking, it’s how we mask our pain!” He turned back to Dean. “That, and the actual mask.” He cackled with laughter, and Dean felt highly unsafe just because this guy seemed unstable, even if he wasn’t… _pure_ evil.

What the fuck was happening with his life?


	6. Slow Ride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some vignettes of Dean and his new hunting partner... and maybe friend?  
A glimpse at a day in the life of Claire.  
Tony Stark reveals a little bit about his relationship with peter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://collider.com/mcu-timeline-explained/#avengers-infinity-war  
Okay so this is actually a pretty detailed timeline up until it actually matters for my story (sigh) but i noticed something strange, if antman and the wasp takes place in the summer of 2018, and that post credits scene is the snap, the snap probably happened near the beginning of Peter's school year. but according to far from home, they had been halfway through the year or semester when they were snapped, and were all irritated about having to take the year over again. i know the timeline is shifty but jesus christ, get it together. Anyway, I'm gonna call it and say that the snap happened in september 2018. School had started for peter probably early august. field trip to space in the end-ish of september. tony got back to earth around halloween. Thanos is dead near thanksgiving. a few weeks of chillling before dean heads out puts us at early/mid-december. all the avengers and claire/dean pretty much ignore the existence of christmas, for obvious reasons that it is super fucking sad. Dean also meets Deadpool around Christmas while he is hunting that vamp. so, four months after that is around the beginning of april, which is where we see dean and wade. and around May we have the interaction of Tony and Claire. I'm sure very few of you care this deeply about the timeline specifics but it drives me nuts, so here it is!

The blade pressed a little further into Dean’s neck, and he actually felt the pinch of sharp metal piercing his skin before he processed the situation enough to _fucking answer the crazy dude before you get decapitated_.

“Vampire! Chick was a vampire, she was killing other people, I had to kill her, I didn’t want to,” Dean said quickly, trying to sound as authoritative as one can while at the mercy of an insane red condom with a sword to your neck. He raised his hands a bit, palms out as if in surrender.

“Yeah, and I’m a mutated ex-army kinda ex-mercenary who is immortal,” the guy droned. “_Shut up, you two!_” he says, directed once again over his shoulder.

“I’m serious, man, if you just don’t kill me, I can prove it,” Dean tried. His hands were out wider now, still appearing submissive.

“How you gonna do that, buddy?”

“Show you the fangs.”

“That head over there doesn’t have fangs, buddy. The mouth is open, and I can see it. She was probably screaming about getting her head chopped off.”

Dean gritted his teeth. “You have to poke the gums to get them to descend. They only come down when the vampire is feeding.”

“Ooh, kinky. Do it then,” the dude answered, moving the sword only enough for Dean to turn around with an exasperated huff. Dean walked with his hands still out, over to where the head had rolled. He had another sickening moment of remembering Thanos, but quickly shoved that down. He reached down, turned so he wasn’t blocking the guy’s view, and prodded the gums until the fangs descended.

“Weird. I’m still not sure I believe you. Since when do vampires exist and since when do random guys in flannel decapitate them? Pretty sure I read a book about that once. Talk about queerbaiting. Just kidding, I don’t read!” the guy rambled on, with a childlike tone. “Explain, now,” he barked out, dropping into a very deep and menacing growl in an instant.

“I just did, ugh, okay, well vampires exist, they don’t sparkle, sun only hurts like a sunburn, they do typically sleep in the day, but they can wake up. Dead man’s blood slows them down, but only reliable way to kill them is decapitating. They can be cured but only if they haven’t fed yet. I got turned once and was cured.” The fucking mask, which literally wasn’t even a face, somehow looked impatient. Dean continued rapidly, “Normally they catch a person or two and keep them captive as their own little buffet. This chick has an apartment right there,” he jerked his thumb to the left, signaling a building less than forty yards away, “with at least three people inside, who are alive and need help right now. They’ll probably vouch for me if you wanna meet them, I had to leave to chase her, but I told them I was coming back. They need help, man,” Dean almost pleaded. This guy was still too far away for him to make a move, the sword was too long. If it was a gun, he probably could’ve disarmed him at this point, if the guy had poked it all up on him the way he had this sword. “Also if someone see’s us they’re gonna freak out, dude, let me show you I’m not a murderer.”

“Alright, fine,” he says simply, shocking Dean. “Lead the way.” He sheaths the sword and gestures with an expectant look on his… mask.

“Well, we also gotta get rid of this body. We can put it in my trunk.”

“Wow. I wonder if Dopinder would put a body in his trunk for me. Well, here, let me help!” The guy almost squeals. Dean wonders how unhinged this guy really is.

The guy shoulders up the body and motions for Dean to take the head. As they’re walking back to Dean’s car, taking care not to be seen, the guy casually mentions, “Oh, and I wasn’t being sarcastic earlier. I really am an immortal mercenary, though like I said, I’m trying to lay off the killing. But if at any point, I think you are actually a bad guy, I will go back on that faster than you can even think, buddy. And I literally am immortal. I regenerate. So if you kill me, I will come back. And sooner or later, I will kill you.”

“What happens if I dismember you? Which part grows pack new parts?” Dean asks, feeling a little brave.

“Wh- uh, what?”

“Well, I mean, if I cut you in half, do two guys grow back? Will I be able to just, throw out the bum half and keep the other nearby so that every time it regenerates, I kill you again? Or would I have to worry about both? What if I burned the pieces? Would you be regenerated from the ashes? What if I built a box out of like, vibranium, and put the starter piece in the box, but the box was too small for a whole person and-”

“_GOD, SHUT UP_,” the guy shouts, startling Dean. They arrive at the car, and Dean stays silent, if only to increase the chances of getting back to help those people in the apartment. Serves the guy right though, he should have a taste of his own rambly insane medicine. “Not you, buddy, I’m sorry, I have voices in my head, you know how it goes,” he says to Dean with a shrug and nonchalant expression. They put the body in the trunk in some big trash bags.

They turn and walk back toward the apartment buildings, and the guy speaks again. “To answer your questions: no, theoretically yes, no, I would regenerate as I burned, if you could actually get me to ashes then yes, and ooh that’s a good one but I think being immortal in a too small box would be about the only thing worse than being immortal outside of a too small box. Pretty sure my brain and nervous system is usually one of the first things to make an appearance too, so it would hurt like a bitch.” At Dean’s incredulous look, the mask fucking smiles somehow. “I’ve tried, buddy. Everything. I do not recommend immortality.” With a clap on the shoulder, the guy pushes Dean forward and he stumbles, huffing as he walks up and picks the lock of the apartment building’s front door. The apartment itself should still be unlocked.

Rescue goes well, they get rid of any traces of Dean and make sure that all three victims get to the hospital. The victims thank Dean, which was nice of them. He doesn’t know what they’ll think or believe about this whole thing in the future, but that’s a problem for their therapists later. Dean and the guy make it back to his car and Dean stands awkwardly, thinking that he sort of needs this guy’s permission to leave, as stupid as it sounds.

The man notices his awkwardness. “Oh, I’m sorry, this is awkward. I guess you’re right, that bitch definitely had it coming. Vampires, huh. Who knew? Anyway, I won’t kill you. So, what’s your gig man, you kill vampires for a living?”

“Well, it doesn’t really pay so I don’t think you could call it a living, but yeah. Monsters, ghosts, etcetera.” Dean thinks of the credit card he has in his pocket, paid for by money from Tony Stark, which was Natasha’s doing. She was impressed with the quantity of his credit card and identity scams but not the quality, which was insulting. Dean’s been just fine for the last three decades of fake ID’s, thank you very much. Anyway, she insisted on setting up an offshore bank account for him with practically unlimited funds and no traceable connection to Tony Stark.

“Damn. So how many things are out there?” the guy responds. “_I can’t just ask him- no, you listen, just let me have this damn conversation!”_ He recovers and turns to Dean again, waiting expectantly.

“Uh… a lot. Like, hundreds of types of things, and they differ from place to place. The lore is all regional and cultural a lot of the time. Other stuff changes, adapts, and all in all it’s just a lot of stuff. Most common and easy to miss are vamps, werewolves, and ghosts. Vamps and werewolves blend easily, and no one wants to fess up that they’re seeing dead people, and when they do talk, no one believes them.”

“That checks out, no one believes me about my voices either,” the guy says, looking put out about it. His mask actually takes on a sympathetic look, and _seriously, how does that even work_\- “It’s probably lonely, isn’t it?”

“I mean, there’s a network of people who hunt, and people who don’t hunt but know about this stuff. We have less people after the blip.”

“Hm,” is all the guy says for a minute. Dean still feels like it’s an inappropriate time to leave, but he doesn’t know what else to say. He just puts his hands in his pockets and waits.

“Well, Dean Winchester,” and how the fuck did this guy know his name? “I’ll leave you be now. Sorry for thinking you were a murderer. I’ve been a little, _itchy_, if you will in the brain and heart regions since the blip, and no it’s not an STD! Anyway, trying to keep this no-killing promise is hard. I might have jumped the gun. But you’re cool, we’re cool. I’ll go,” he finishes, and with a melancholy smile on that mouthless mask, he turns and starts to walk away, shoulders slumped and dragging his feet. Dean doesn’t know why he does it, he honestly couldn’t tell you, but he does it.

“Wait!” The guy turns with a look of utter glee on his mask and Dean internally facepalms. What is he getting himself into?

~ Four Months Later ~

Turns out, a great hunting partner was what he got himself into. Deadpool was fucking _fantastic_ to hunt with because he literally could not die. He couldn’t be possessed either, which was odd, because he couldn’t get a tattoo, but something about his condition made it impossible for a demon to possess him when they encountered her selling bad demon deals, mostly blip related. Turns out, fake people to replaced blipped ones were essentially _zombies_ and that demon had to go. Deadpool willingly offers himself up as bait anytime it seemed effective, and it almost always was, and there was no guilt on Dean’s part because he _couldn’t die_. Well, minimal guilt, anyway. Dean still hadn’t seen his face, which bothered him, but the guy was pretty shut off about it. Which was even more suspicious because he never shut up about everything else. He hadn’t shared his name yet either, and even though Deadpool knew Dean’s name, he insistently called him “buddy” all the damn time. He was honestly a little annoying, but he was a reliable partner for the most part, and Dean had only had to deal with an actually dead Deadpool twice in four months, so things could be worse.

He wouldn’t call them close, but they had made the move to share a motel room for the first-time last week, which in a hunter’s book was a pretty big thing. Deadpool barely slept, instead hooking up a Nintendo switch and playing Mario Kart all night, but that wasn’t terribly annoying. Honestly, Dean thinks he rested easier knowing Deadpool was already awake to look out for anything.

They were currently working a shifter case in Jersey. Everything moved like clockwork. As Deadpool chaotically bounced around the room, sporadically fighting the shifter and confounding it when he continued fighting after multiple wounds, Dean moved from his concealed spot and took aim, firing two shots right into the shifter’s heart.

“YASSS, great job buddy! Perfect aim, you did so good,” Deadpool praised. It was weird, but after a few times, Dean learned that it really was genuine praise. Deadpool was pretty… overly encouraging, you could say. Dean tried to smile but it really was more like a grimace.

“Uh, yeah. You too, man. How’s that gash doing?” Dean said, motioning to the long cut on Deadpool’s left side of his abdomen.

“Oh, definitely caught something important on the inside, hurts like a motherfucker, probably a lot of internal bleeding,” Deadpool said casually, but Dean could see the tension. Deadpool was pretty much immune to minor pain because of his constant state of regeneration, so he says, but he won’t admit that big stuff still hurts, and Dean had gotten pretty good at reading him.

“You gonna make it back alright?” Deadpool had a place somewhere in New York, so they weren’t actually far from where he lived, but Dean didn’t think he was in as good of shape as he wanted to seem.

“Of course, I- well, hm,” Deadpool’s mask eyes did a widen-narrow thing, like he was woozy. But he never wobbled. Probably took a lot of effort to make sure he didn’t. “I might actually stay in, _hluegh, Jersey_, for this particular regeneration,” he said, masking almost perfectly the strain in his words and even making sure to add in the gag sound as dramatically as possible. But Dean could see the muscles in his legs quivering ever so slightly, and _fuck,_ he was gonna pass out for sure, maybe die, Jesus fuck-

_Thud_. And now Deadpool was on the floor. Fucking fantastic.

~~~~

Dean had been specifically instructed never to remove the mask, even when Deadpool actually died, and so Dean just shouldered up the body and started making his way out of the abandoned elementary school they were in. It was creepy as fuck and this shifter had been using it as a hideout after the kids in this district got stuffed into the other school nearby since both were only half filled after the blip.

Dean didn’t know where Deadpool lived, so he just put him in the car and started driving to the city. Propped him up with a seatbelt and everything. It’s not like you could tell he was dead, what with the mask, and eventually he would wake up and either tell Dean where to go or go there by himself.

As predicted, two hours later as they just breached the outskirts of the city, Deadpool began to stir. He just twitched at first, then he started fidgeting and finally moaned loudly. After a low growl and another moan, he seemed to snap instantly to full awareness with a jolt that actually shook the car. Then it was Dean’s turn to growl.

“Sorry, buddy, reviving really is a shock to the sinuses!” he wheezes. “Internal bleeding. Huh. Haven’t tried that one in a while and now I fucking remember whyyy,” he whined. Dean just rolled his eyes, growing more accustomed to the antics.

“We’re in New York. You want me to drop you off?”

“Ooh, taking me home, huh cowboy?” he leered, complete with a reality-defying eyebrow wiggle on the mask.

“Just tell me where to go, douchebag.”

“Uh! Fine, you’re highness. But I’m _not_ inviting you in,” Deadpool pouted, but gave the directions, nonetheless. Dean was a little shocked to see how nice the building they pulled up to was. It must have shown on his face, because Deadpool commented on it.

“Yeah, mercenary is a pretty well-paying job. I don’t do it anymore, so in like thirty years I’ll either have to move out or find another job paying at least seventeen thousand per month. But for now I’m all set.”

Dean just shook his head. He knew that he was certainly the best funded hunter in the world thanks to Tony Stark, but he still lived the same lifestyle. This mansion-building clashed with the image of Deadpool he had built up so far as a chaotic neutral with absolutely no attachment to reality.

“Do you, uh, wanna come in? It’s probably a sty right now but I know you were going up to Maine with that other guy after this for that clown thing and you should probably rest first. I have a guest bedroom with your name on it, buddy,” Deadpool offered. Deadpool wasn't actually coming on the clown case, because he had a merc mission. Not to kill anyone, because of his mysterious promise, but to capture/imprison some guy from a ring of human traffickers. Dean thinks he would be alright with that one dying. Slowly.

Dean did the math in his head and he still had two weeks until the clown supposedly was set to return, so he figured Deadpool was right. He hadn’t slept in fifty-two hours and he definitely felt it. “Lead the way. But I’ve told you a million times-”

“_Don’t call me buddy,”_ they chorused together. Deadpool continued, “I hate to break it too you buddy, but Baby Boy is taken and those are my only two non-offensive nicknames so unless you want something like sugar-cheeks or bow-legs, power-bottom, maybe flannel-dick, I can-”

“Buddy’s fine, let’s just go,” Dean gruffs, getting out of the car and leaving a smug-masked Deadpool to snicker alone.

~~~~

Claire wheezed when she landed hard on her back, the wind getting knocked out of her. Before her lungs could recover, she was up again, dodging another blow and getting in a decent leg sweep that Natasha only just avoided. Unfortunately, Natasha used the momentum to get her off balance, and the light-headedness made her an easy target for the final blow, which Natasha pulled. Claire hated her for it. She slammed to the ground only slightly more gently than she would have if Natasha was a real enemy, but she still didn’t like that Natasha was pulling her punches for Claire.

But, seeing as she was on her stomach anyway with her hands behind her back and an assassin on her legs, it didn’t seem to make much of a difference anyway.

“That was better. Sorry for knocking the wind out of you, but getting up like that was good. Just make those first few movements sharper, buy yourself some time to back up and get that air back. Then you won’t get so dizzy,” Natasha said with a strained voice.

“Why are you pulling your punches?” Claire asked. Like all the times she had pestered before, no luck was to be had with the answer.

“When you stop losing, I’ll stop pulling,” was all Natasha said, though she did smirk slightly. At least she was in a better mood than yesterday. She had followed a lead on Clint for almost a week and it turned out to be nothing. When she got back the night before last, she was in probably the worst mood Claire had seen her in since moving to the Compound. Sparring with Claire sometimes cheered her up. Other times it made her look nauseous, but definitely not because of anything Claire did in the fight.

They cleaned up the gym together, and walked back to their shared floor. Natasha stopped outside of her own bedroom door and Claire paused, hoping they could hang out a bit. She hated seeing Natasha so stressed.

“Claire… thanks for trying to cheer me up.”

“You caught onto that, huh?” Claire smiled, because Natasha liked when she was happy. She was smiling more and more lately. It made her sad to think about, because she should have smiled more for Jody.

“You willingly got your ass kicked an extra three rounds and still improved? Definitely caught on,” Natasha joked back.

“I was gonna watch Netflix and look for a case, if you wanna join,” Claire tried.

“I need… some more time alone, I think. I’m not avoiding you, I’m just… tired.” Claire could tell she wasn’t just making an excuse. When she said _tired_, she meant the existential kind. Claire just nodded.

“Well, I’m here if you want company,” she offered.

“I appreciate it, kid.” Natasha hesitated, then pulled Claire in for a hug. Claire melted into it, wishing it was Jody and hating herself for thinking that. She loved Natasha, too. Not in a crush way, not anymore. In a real, life-companion kind of way. Natasha wasn’t motherly in the same way as Jody, but she was definitely as fiercely protective as her, and her role in Claire’s life was something like a mix between a mentor and an older sister or friend. The hug ended before Claire wanted it to, but she smiled nonetheless and let Natasha retreat. Before Natasha closed the door, she added, “Tony’s in the common area, by the way, he has something for you I think.” That was odd.

Claire continued down the hall to find Tony Stark on the couch in their living room, holding a package.

“Dean sent this,” he said simply. She didn’t respond, just took the package from him and sat down. She and Tony had an unsettling dynamic. She could never tell if he actually approved of her being here, even though he obviously allowed it. They rarely spoke, and if they did it was usually related to scheduling. Tony wasn’t really working so much anymore, but he and Pepper were dealing with the post-blip business side of things as well as they could. Rhodey was helping a lot too, because Tony was still a little on the weak side of recovery. But he was getting stronger. The starvation and oxygen deprivation had done a lot of damage. All the observational skills Nat had been teaching her kicked in as she assessed him.

His hair was clean, but dry, so he showered earlier today. His face was brighter, eyes more alert, so he wasn’t in a lot of pain and had eaten a proper amount. Circles under his eyes were average, so probably about six hours of sleep. The cane was nowhere in sight, so he had come up here without it, and given how okay he looked, that meant he was improving significantly. Or he had been here a while, long enough to recover.

“I can totally tell you’re Russian-spy analyzing me. Stop it,” he said childishly. Claire almost laughed, and Tony almost smiled. “You gonna open the package?”

“Uh, yeah, but if it’s from Dean you may not wanna see what’s inside. Could be anything,” she warned.

“Consider this training for my stomach as I recover. I’ll wait and see,” he said with just a ghost of humor in his tone. Claire opened the package and found inside a knife handle, very intricately carved with beautiful metal work on the ends and within the carving pattern, and finished with a hard, shiny coating, but no blade. Tony looked confused, and Claire was too, until she saw the note at the bottom of the box.

_Found this in a crypt in Maine. Blade is only real when it comes into contact with something dark, demonic, etc. Thought it would be a cool birthday gift. Have only tested it so far on a tulpa, vampire, demon, and a spirit. Slowed the spirit down about as much as iron or rock salt, slowed the vamp down like dead man’s blood. Tulpa and demon died, even with the tulpa legend not mentioning this knife, so it’s a pretty useful tool. Helpful too ‘cause it can’t cut you and you’re never in the way of your own blade. Me and a friend added the lacquer, which is infused with dead man’s blood and holy water. Metal accents are silver. _

_Happy early birthday, kid. I know it’s not for a few months, but this is my present. I’ll call you soon._

_Dean_

“Wicked,” Claire marveled, passing the note to Tony and examining the knife. It really was beautiful. She couldn’t wait to try it out.

“Hunters,” Tony scoffs, not unkindly, and passes the note back. “When is your birthday, Claire?”

“August tenth,” she replies. Tony’s face drops like a stone, and Claire immediately wonders what she said, what she did wrong, but Tony recovers quickly.

“1997, right?”

“Yep,” she says cautiously.

“Huh. You would have been… four years older than my… my, uh,” his voice breaks a little and Claire wants to tell him he doesn’t have to say, but he presses on before she finds the words. “Well, Peter. He has the same birthday as you, though.”

“Oh,” Claire says, at a loss for anything else to say. She feels like she should be more tactful, but she genuinely doesn’t know how to react.

“I think you would have gotten along with his girlfriend.” Claire raises an eyebrow at that. Tony continues. “Well, not girlfriend, but a crush he… yeah, she was all dark and broody like you.” Tony tries to smile but he just looks constipated. Claire doesn’t know what to say or do, so she sort of just goes with instinct here.

“I’m sorry. It’s shitty. So fucking shitty. And I don’t wanna bullshit you, ‘cause I hate when people bullshit me. But I really am sorry you lost him.” She says quietly. She doesn’t know Peter, but she knows that Stark feels a lot of pain from this. Tony is silent for a minute or two, and they both stare at the floor.

“You wanna know why Natasha pulls her punches with you?” Claire hesitates, wondering how or why he knows about that, but she nods eventually.

“You’re her Peter. She’s watching you grow and improve, and she wishes she could protect you from every single thing, but I just-” Starks voice broke again, and he tries to hold back a sob that comes out sounding like a gasp for air. He composes himself. “She knows she can’t stop you from hunting, from fighting back against Thanos, from anything. And she knows better than to try. But the idea of someone getting the jump on you and winning that fight, for real? She can’t handle it. So she trains you to be better, and gives you all the protection she can, anything in her power to do. She pulls her punches because she can’t hurt you.” Claire was speechless, and felt like the air had been knocked once again from her lungs. It was so… heavy, to hear Stark like this. They barely talked, and he comes in and drops a bombshell like this?

“I’m telling you this… because I want you to know that you mean a lot to her. And it might be hard for her to say it, but you should know. You should never doubt it. Or think that you’re bugging her, or not worthy of her time and investment, because you are. Just… be careful, Claire. None of us is gonna try to control you, ever. You’re an adult, you can do what you gotta do. But just… don’t be reckless, okay? Please.” Tony looks shattered, and the bright-eyed recovery she had seen earlier seems to have seeped out of him, leaving an empty shell behind.

“I won’t. Be reckless, I mean. I won’t be reckless. I- Um, thank you, Mr. Stark,” she said, but paused when he actually flinched at the name.

“Call me Tony, please,” he says breathlessly.

“Yeah. Tony. Thanks for bringing me the package.”

“Thank you, Claire. You’re… nice to have around.” Claire actually huffs a small chuckle at that.

“Compliment of the year,” she says dryly.

“Consider it an early birthday gift,” he says weakly, but perks up enough to give a wink, before standing and walking to the hall. He turns back to say one more thing before leaving.

“Don’t tell Natasha I had this conversation with you. She’ll be all embarrassed and start thinking I wanna talk about feelings, just blegh. This is between us,” he states.

“You got it, Tony,” Claire says. And she gives him a smile before he leaves. His own lips twitch, like they’re on their way to their own.


	7. Teenage Lobotomy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm finally back! I'm so sorry it took so long, thank you to everyone who is still here. In this chapter, Nat and Dean have some "bonding" time over caring about a certain reckless young adult. Tony sympathizes, and does something about it. Natasha knows something about Wade and isn’t telling Dean; mentioning this to Tony is certainly one way to get info.
> 
> This is a sad chapter yall i'm sorry lol  
I don't really know where I'm going with this but it will get there eventually!  
Also i'm running out of rock song title ideas that actually match with the content of the chapters so just disregard anything from here on out, chapter titles are meaningless

“What do you mean not the hospital?!” he shrieked. This was too much, too much. After the decimation and all the bullshit with the Avengers, Carl was barely becoming content with going back to a somewhat normal routine. High school may be bullshit, but at least it was mind-numbing enough to distract from existential crises.

His boyfriend turning out to be a vampire was _not_ on his list of “things that may have surprised me last year but this year ain’t shit.” He was very, very shocked.

Even more so when some chick comes in and fucking beheads him. Though not before Mark got a good fight in, and now this girl was practically bleeding out from a deep cut in her abdomen.

“Just get my phone, it fell over there,” the girl rasped, her voice shaking with effort. She and Carl were both putting pressure on his jacket that he had pressed on her wound in a vain effort to stop the bleeding.

“You need a HOSPITAL, I’m getting that phone and calling 9-1-1…” Carl panics as he gently removes his blood-soaked hands to go find the phone. He wipes his hands on his jeans and doesn’t think about his rolling stomach.

“No, I swear… No hospitals, please… I’m friends with the Avengers, they can be here in a few minutes, I’m sure…” _Oh, fuck_. Her voice was weaker. She was wheezing. He doesn’t care if the Avengers can get here yesterday, this chick needs a hospital. The phone is on the ground in the shadows, but he finds it and is incredibly relieved to see that it’s functioning after the fight. He’ll call whoever she wants once he knows the ambulance is on the way.

~

“She looks _pissed_,” Dean remarks, taking a seat next to Natasha in the hall after getting a glimpse of Claire through the open door.

“It’s amazing how true that is even when she’s in a _fucking_ coma,” Natasha agrees.

“Whoa,” Dean marvels. “Careful, Black Widow, I think you just had an emotional nip-slip.”

“Don’t be such a man, Dean. It’s unbecoming,” she responds, face schooled into neutrality once again.

“You know, you may be a spy, but I’m a hunter. I can read people maybe 80% as well as you can, and you…” Dean whistles a low note, then continues. “You are not as calm as you want to seem.”

“Good job. A-plus deducing skills. You could be the next Sherlock.”

“You get chatty when you’re emotional, huh,” Dean muses.

“And your jackassery doubles.” Dean doesn’t respond, getting the point. He was just as distraught as her right now, and to be fair, he was being a jackass. Poking the bear and all that.

They sat in that hallway for about eighteen hours. Natasha ignored all calls from Tony, Pepper, Steve, Rhodey, and even one from the raccoon. Dean didn’t get quite as many calls, but ignored the three he got from Wade (who had finally shared his name with Dean not one week prior) and even one from Pepper. Dean was actually surprised that none of them just came to the hospital anyway. He supposed that the deliberate denial of the calls clued them all into the fact that Dean and Natasha were okay enough to keep their phones charged and hit _end_ every time they rang, rather than just let them go to voicemail.

That kid from her case, Carl, had stayed at the hospital until Dean and Natasha arrived. Despite Dean being much closer to her location in the Midwest, Natasha arrived at about the same time in the quinjet. The kid called the two of them after he called the ambulance, freaking the absolute fuck out on the phone with Dean and minimally calmer on the phone with Nat while he and Claire rode in the ambulance. He had some wounds of his own where the vampire, Mark, had… well, fed, and roughed him up a bit, but he was fine after a couple of stitches.

Dean pitied the kid. He pitied a lot of people, and kind of hated himself for it. The existence of monsters wasn’t enough, the apocalypse wasn’t enough, the decimation wasn’t enough… the universe just kept throwing shit at people. Why God didn’t just wipe the whole slate clean and throw out the notion of life altogether at this point was beyond him.

A text from Wade finally broke him out of his latest depressive cycle around the sixteenth hour of waiting.

** _Wade_ ** _: I KILLED A GHOUL! ALL BY MYSELF! BE PROUD OF MEEEEEE_

Dean didn’t reply, but he almost chuckled. His little huff drew the attention of Natasha, who looked over in time to see the next message come in.

** _Wade_ ** _: I know your ignoring me for some reason but just check in to let me know youre okay or something_

** _Dean_ ** _: im good. A friend is hurt. Just waiting._

** _Wade_ ** _: gotcha. Don’t go too existential in the meantime_

Hm. He was at least glad Wade didn’t give him some cheesy get-well-soon message to relay.

“Who is Wade?” Natasha asks, speaking for the first time in nearly ten hours.

“New hunting buddy,” Dean replied shortly. Natasha hummed quietly.

“New?” she prodded.

“Yeah, met him after leaving the compound,” Dean continued, not really in the mood to get share-y but not willing to deny Natasha either.

“And if you didn’t know him before, how’d he end up a hunting buddy? Did you try to kill the same thing?” Dean finally just gave in.

“Actually no, he stalked me for a bit and noticed I was killing ‘people’,” Dean added air quotes here, “and decided I was a murderer and he threatened to kill me. Said that a friend of his had helped him stop killing cause he used to be like, a vigilante or something, but that he would make an exception for me. I explained about monsters and he believed me, so he started helping out.” Dean wasn’t sure about sharing the part where Wade couldn’t die. Wade didn’t seem to be affiliated with the Avengers and Dean didn’t know if that was intentional.

Natasha hummed again, looking thoughtful. Maybe she already knew about Wade. Dean wouldn’t be surprised. She didn’t seem keen to talk about it anymore, though so they lapsed into silence once again.

Around the seventeen-and-a-half-hour mark, the doctors said that Claire was showing signs of waking up soon. Dean and Natasha moved from their spots in the hall to the two chairs in the room with her.

When Claire’s eyes fluttered open, the angry look on her face dropped for a moment. She looked young, almost childish. Above all, she looked afraid. But then she caught Dean’s eye, and they both smiled. A tear slipped down his face, and Claire apparently was alert enough rolled her eyes. Dean just chuckled dryly and grasped her left hand from his side of the bed. Claire turned to the other side when she felt Natasha grab her other hand.

What happened next both shocked Dean and warmed his craggy old hunter heart. It also made him long for Jody. And Jack.

Claire’s smirk from rolling her eyes at Dean dropped instantly. Her face was blank for a few seconds, then shocked, which prompted Dean looked at Natasha. His jaw almost dropped to see her openly crying. Upon turning back to Claire, he was nearly equally shocked to see Claire crying too. But not out of frustration or anger. Her face was open, she wasn’t trying to hide away her emotions, whatever they were right now. A smile, small and nervous, crept onto her face, and suddenly Natasha was yanking Claire’s shoulders forward gently and wrapping Claire in her arms. Claire squeezed Dean’s hand tightly, and he lifted his other hand to her upper arm and squeezed gently in return. He couldn’t see her face, but he felt like a thousand pounds had been lifted off of him. She was okay.

~

“Tony, this is amazing and all, but… I’m not a superhero,” Claire said, running the material over her hands. Sheer, somewhat matte material only a shade lighter than Claire’s skin.

“And that’s why it’s not a superhero suit. If it was, it would be much more decorative. I call it the ‘Hunter’s Baselayer,’ and I have one here for Dean, too,” Tony explained, getting another piece of fabric from the bag he brought with him and handing it to Dean.

Dean and Claire unrumpled the fabric to find some sort of leotard with long sleeves and legs. It was incredibly lightweight, and had some stretch to it. There were no seams, but rather a lone, light green circle on the chest that was just barely thicker than the rest of the fabric.

“You just bop it right here on the circle, and it loosens to let you in,” Tony said, demonstrating by bopping it and holding open the newly enlarged neck-and-back opening. “Then, bop it again and it’s skin tight, but not restricting,” he continues, bopping it once more so it shrinks into its smaller size and the back closes up at the top. Dean notices that despite the no-nonsense tone of his explanation, Tony’s gaze is far away. “Finally managed to make a sheer fabric that is about 86% stab- and slash-resistant. Anything at an angle of 77 degrees or wider to your skin will be deflected, and 77-85 degrees will be significantly resisted. If someone manages to jab you straight on, the fabric has nanotech designed to stop the bleeding, and the circle on the chest will blink with coded colors for medical advice. Yellow flashing means keep the object inside, black and white flashing means removed the object and the suit will deploy the nanotech to get the wound under control. Hold your hand on the circle for more than three seconds, the compound is alerted to an emergency and given your location. Five seconds, both the compound and local emergency services will be notified.”

“Take a breath, Tony,” Natasha said gently, smiling.

“I tried to simulate teeth biting it, and I do have to say that it was significantly harder to penetrate than a normal shirt, but not impenetrable. Knives are a little more regular, easier to predict, teeth, especially when the force is coming from multiple directions and compressing, is-”

“You heard the spy, Tony,” Dean interrupted, standing up and clapping a hand on Tony’s shoulder. He could feel how much stronger Tony was just from one touch. “These are… amazing. I’m not really a leotard man, but it definitely beats getting stabbed. This is… too much. Thank you.” Dean retracts his hand and puts it on the back of his head, ruffling his hair a bit.

“Yeah, Tony. And the car… thank you,” Claire said, in a rare moment of unconcealed, open gratitude.

“I do what I can. We gotta take care of each other, yeah?” Tony winked and stepped back, watching as Natasha and Claire looked over the fabric some more. Claire announces she’s gonna go try it on, and Natasha smiles after her.

“Tony… thank you,” Natasha says plainly. Dean has a feeling that Tony knows, _understands_ the gratitude she’s getting at that is so much bigger than her words. He feels it too. Knowing that Claire is going to be that much safer when hunting is immeasurable. Again, he finds himself thinking of Jack, wishing he could protect him too. He shoves those thoughts down, though more gently than he would have a few months ago.

“It’s what I do,” he says simply in return. Natasha gets up to follow Claire, and Tony makes a motion to leave, too. Dean nods at Tony before he turns to go, but Dean jumps up after a thought occurs to him.

“Hey, Tony, wait,” he says, stopping Tony at the door. “Have you ever heard of a guy named Wade that Nat might have some beef with?”

Tony looks skeptical. “What kind of beef?”

“Eh, she just saw I was texting my hunting buddy, and she got all silent on me. Seemed like she wasn’t telling me something. I don’t know if it’s real beef or not, but I figured it would be worth asking.”

“Who is this guy? You said hunting buddy? So, you’ve known him for a while.”

“No, I just met him a few months ago. He’s a bit of a loose screw but a dependable guy,” Dean adds.

Tony signs, closes his eyes and his head bows slightly.

“This guy happen to be a mercenary?” So Tony did know.

“Ex-merc. Says a good friend helped him get off the killing train.”

“Jesus. Yeah, we know him. Wade Wilson. He’s one fucked up guy,” Tony admits.

“He’s definitely a bit wacked out. But he’s a great hunting partner. One of the best I’ve ever had, right behind my… well, my brother and, uh, angel friend. From before.”

“From what I know… he’s a decent guy,” Tony says reluctantly, as if not wanting to believe it. “If Nat has a problem with him, it would be because she doesn’t trust him, but to be fair, she doesn’t trust a lot of people. He just has one major advantage over her that most people don’t, so even if he is decent, she’s gonna be wary.”

“What’s the advantage?” Dean asks, though he has already figured it out. He’s almost certain.

“The guy can’t die." Yup. "Some crazy government experiment gone wrong. He was tortured a lot, experimented on and they fucked him up so bad that he’s a bit messed up in the head, more so than before. He was a merc before the experiments, but he stayed one after.”

“Till this friend of his got him to change,” Dean added, a little defensive. He trusted Wade. And he had already learned more about him in a five-minute conversation with Tony than the previous months spent fighting with Wade. He almost felt like he knew too much now, as if he had betrayed Wade’s trust.

“Yeah, well that friend had a tendency to see the absolute best in people,” Tony said, voice almost a whisper. “Not saying he was wrong, just, keep your guard up. Wilson is a wild card.”

“Seems like you know a lot about that friend, huh?” Dean had his suspicions already. He knew that Tony had a kid. Not a biological one, but a kid who was involved in some sort of Avengers nonsense and knew more than most teens. Tony acted weird around Nat and Claire with their bond, was overprotective of everyone but especially Claire, and got misty-eyed at seemingly random points in conversation. Whoever this kid was, it was the same ‘friend’ of Wade’s that they were talking about now, if the quiet voice and gloss in Tony’s eyes was anything to go by. Tony remained silent.

Dean decided to continue, “I don’t know if you want to hear this, but maybe it could help: Wade really cared about that kid.” Tony looked up, as if shocked to hear Dean figure it out. “He absolutely reveres him. Hardly ever talks about him, cause its too hard, but when he does mention him, you can tell. Wade hasn't even said the kid’s name or why he was hanging out with Wade to begin with-” Tony scoffs lightly, but Dean presses on, “But damn, that kid must’ve been something good to get Wade to change his ways like that. And he may be a wild card, but I trust him.”

Tony had a stray tear on his cheek, and he jolted to wipe it away as if he had just noticed.

“Yeah, well, that’s Peter for ya. That’s his name. Peter.” Tony is whispering, the ghost of a smile on his lips.

“Wish I could have known him,” Dean says, hoping that he isn’t overstepping but not wanting to be insensitive either.

“Yeah. He would have loved you two, as crazy as you both are.” Tony looked like he was itching to leave, edging toward the door again, so Dean stepped back to give him space.

“See you around, Tony.”

“Don’t be a stranger, Dean.” Tony walked away, and Dean felt a melancholy aura settle over him. When Claire and Nat called to him from down the hall, the feeling was already tucked away in the back of his mind.


	8. Kiss the Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heeeeerrreeeeee we go! So sorry for the long wait (a month and a half, yikes!) but here is a Leap-Year only update of over 5000 words to make up for it! Much love to all the readers sticking with it and any new readers joining in! (PS unrelated to this story but if you're into theater, Team Starkid is posting their new musical on youtube at 11:59 pm tonight, pacific standard time! It's gonna be amazing! Black friday the musical, on youtube, by team starkid. Check it out!)

“Ah, shit.” Dean moans, trying to sit up but finding the weight of Deadpool on his torso. With a mighty shove he manages to push Wade off to the left.

_ THUD _. Wade looks to be missing his left leg and a chunk of his torso on the right side. Both arms are intact but the hands are gone. “Shit,” he mutters again. In the explosion, he wasn’t able to see if the witch got away, but from the looks of the guts on the wall where she was standing, she didn’t. He hopes that’s enough. Assessing himself for injuries, he thinks he has a broken ankle and potentially a couple ribs. And he is bleeding profusely from… somewhere. Feels like his hand? And, yep, that’s probably a concussion, too. “Fuck,” he groans, though he thinks it comes out as more of a whine.

The car is eight blocks away. He’s covered in guts, can’t be seen like this. Wade is missing body parts and it will take a few days to regenerate everything.

He has an older contact who he last knew to be in Florida. There’s some hunters in the northeast but no one he really trusts enough to bring Wade around. Though he isn’t a monster, _ mutated human _ won’t exactly endear him to many hunters. There’s that one chick in North Carolina from his “weekend off”... no, _ no _, he could not call her back. That would be bad.

Grumpy about his conclusion to try Claire and Nat, he tries to pull out his phone without jostling anything. It doesn’t work. Grumpy, in pain, and woozier by the second, he manages to get it out of his pocket and finds it shattered and dead. _ Just great _. 

With a resigned sigh, he presses his hand to the center of his chest for three seconds, no longer because he doesn’t want to accidentally alert locals. The button on his chest vibrates to confirm that the message was sent. Dean can’t really fight it anymore, and passes out.

* * *

He wakes up in a hospital bed in what is clearly the compound. He’s glad he recognizes Tony’s style enough to tell, because he would be freaking out otherwise. The “hospital” room looks like a swanky, modernism hotel room. He shuts his eyes tight again at the blast of pain in his head.

Dean doesn’t move his head just yet because he knows that opening his eyes will be a bitch. He remembers faintly being woken in the old warehouse by Claire and Natasha. He remembers boarding the quinjet and being in too much pain to freak out about flying. He remembers everything, including making them bring Wade along. Claire wasn’t bothered, but Natasha was wary. He didn’t care. He didn’t want Wade to regenerate and wake up and just think that Dean abandoned him. 

Fighting the pain, he manages to squint open his eyes again. It takes a few minutes, but the lights are dimmed considerably and he is finally able to focus. A clock on the wall reads eleven-thirty. That’s only an hour and a half since the last time they woke him up, because of his concussion.

The headache was drowning out most other pain, and Dean summoned the effort to take a quick glance around the room. To his right, in another hospital bed, was Wade. If it really was eleven-thirty, he should be awake right now, even if he was still regenerating… he generally woke up a few hours after death, and they had fought the witch this morning. But, reassured enough, Dean let the fatigue drag him under once again. Anything to get away from the pain.

That lasted all of twenty-five minutes, because it was time to wake him again thanks to the concussion. He saves his bitter frustration for later, because god knows the poor nurse doesn’t deserve any of it. The normal check and then he is left to sleep again. But something is off. Wade still isn’t awake.

“Wade?” Dean croaks, voice failing him. He clears his throat, which hurts immensely, and tries again. “Hey, Wade! Wake up, man.”

Wade slumbers on, the rising and falling of his chest indicating that he is breathing, but showing no other signs of alertness. What the fuck? Wade never needed as much sleep as Dean to begin with, having the whole regenerating thing on his side. He could take Dean’s nightly four hours and be actually rested, whereas Dean was only barely functional with that. Why wasn’t he waking up? 

To his left, the door opened, and Claire walked in.

“Sorry, I didn’t want to bother you, I know you’re a light sleeper,” she started. “But I heard you talking, so I wanted to check in. How was the hunt?” She crawled onto the foot of the bed and sat down.

“Well, the wicked witch is dead. Have definitely seen better days, though,” Dean responded with a chuckle that radiated pain in his head and chest. He now noticed that there were wrappings on his ribs and a soft cast on his ankle, opposite from where Claire had sat. Brilliant.

“Yeah, you were both in rough shape when we got there. Glad you used your suit though,” Claire added.

“Yeah, phone was busted. Guess Tony will finally get to give me that new one he’s been badgering about.

“Badgering may be a bit of an exaggeration,” Claire said with a grin. 

“How so? Badgering is exactly what Tony does,” came Nat’s voice from the door. She entered and sat down in a chair next to Dean’s bed. Claire laughed.

“He doesn’t badger. He just mentions it every time Dean shows up.”

“That’s badgering,” Nat and Dean say together.

“Fair enough,” she amends, still smiling. “But he usually drops it pretty quick for you. With me he will bring it up and then won’t stop until I make up some excuse to leave the room.”

“And do you have a new phone yet?” Nat asks.

“No, mine works fine still!” Claire exclaims.

“It dies after two hours, Claire,” comes Nat’s response. “That’s not _ fine _, just let him give you the phone and he’ll stop badgering you.”

Claire looks as if she wants to point out that now Nat is badgering too, but thinks better of it. “Fine, he can give me a new phone. But already with the car and the suit, it just seems like too much.”

“Well, that’s Tony. Too much is not enough for him,” Nat says, though not unkindly. This seems to be a natural stop in the conversation, so Dean speaks up.

“So uh, has Wade been awake at all since we got here?”

“No,” Nat replies. Her eyebrows draw together. “How long does he normally sleep when… I mean, while he…”

“Regenerates? I dunno, maybe six? If the death is fairly simple, he wakes up after a couple hours. If he’s missing body parts, a few more? He can be awake while he regenerates sometimes. It’s kinda weird that he’s not up yet, I think.”

Nat looks at Dean, then shifts her gaze to consider Wade. “Well, he was missing some major organs and had even more blood loss than you. Maybe it’s just taking a little more effort this time.”

“Yeah, maybe…” Dean trails off, worry growing. Claire tries to distract him with tales from her latest hunt, a haunting in Maryland, and it works for now. But now that Dean has been sufficiently monitored to sleep longer bouts, he drifts off after a while and they leave him undisturbed until morning. And when he wakes up (painfully, again) and sees that it’s six in the morning and Wade still isn’t awake, his worry has turned into real fear. This is not normal.

* * *

Two days later, Dean is back in his guest room, propped up in bed and healing while pouring over books and his laptop. Wade is still asleep. His regeneration is still working (the left leg being a literal baby leg is enough evidence of that) but he hasn’t been awake for any of it. So he is stuck in bed doing research while Claire scouts the witch’s house and town for any clues as to what might be going on. 

Nat has been checking in on him and bringing him food, which he tries to tell her she doesn’t have to do, but she insists. He hates feeling so… pampered. Recovery sucks, but he feels wrong about all this. It just isn’t the hunter way. He can hear Sam telling him to shut up and don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, which is essentially what Natasha said. He shakes his head gently to clear it, and gets back to research, straining his eyes against all doctors’ orders. Something was wrong with Wade.

* * *

It’s been two weeks. After some forced breaks, Dean finally feels mostly recovered from his concussion. But he is nowhere closer to figuring out what’s wrong with Wade. He isn’t _ dead _, which wouldn’t even be a problem normally, but is seemingly in a coma. His regeneration finished and he is a normal, relatively healthy, mutated human.

Claire scoured the town his witch hunt had been in, and then followed a lead two states over where the girl’s old coven was located. She was still there. Nat’s visits had become less frequent once Dean felt good enough to use crutches, but he still saw her in the common area. He knew she was doing her own research on Hawkeye. He had seemingly disappeared, but not in the dusty way. Every so often news would crop up of a vigilante sort of thing, almost like Deadpool’s old work. Nat believed that some, if not all, of these were Clint. But it was too hard to track him. He knew her tricks, he knew how to not be found. Dean felt for her.

A knock on his door was somewhat surprising, then. Nat had been absorbed in her research when he last ventured into the kitchen for food. “Yeah,” he said in the direction of the door, and he blinked stupidly when Captain America walked in.

“Uh, hey.” 

“Hi,” Steve said. Dean finally felt okay enough to call him Steve, though it was weird. He was moving past the fanboy stage and slowly getting over the resentment at his attitude when they first met. “Nat seemed preoccupied, and I was about to make myself some dinner so I thought I’d offer you some if you want. It’s pasta.”

“Uh, sure,” Dean said, moving to get up. He could use a break. Upon moving, though, he realized he kind of reeked. “Mind if I clean up a bit first?” He asked, nodding to the bathroom.

“Of course,” he said, ducking his head a bit. “Just, uh, take your time. It’s almost done, I’ll keep it warm.” He then turned and walked out. Dean knew that Cap still came back to the compound from time to time but he generally didn’t come around Claire and Nat’s area. Weird.

An awkward shower to keep his foot dry and a change of clothes later, Dean headed out to the common area and kitchen. Nat seemingly hadn’t looked up from her laptop in hours, and Dean couldn’t even begin to decipher what she was doing on it. His phone buzzed with a check-in from Claire which he answered before moving to the food.

“How’s Claire?” Steve asks hesitantly, like he was afraid he wasn’t allowed.

“Oh, she’s good. That was her,” Dean shakes his phone a bit. He moves over to take a plate. “No good leads, but no witch encounters either.”

“That’s… good. I’m glad,” Steve says awkwardly. Dean just nods, taking his full plate to the island dividing the kitchen and common room. Steve leans against the counter where the food is as Dean digs in. The pasta is actually pretty good.

“So, if you don’t mind me asking… What _ is _ wrong with Wilson? What exactly are you guys researching?” Steve asks.

“Your guess is as good as mine. ‘Regenerating mutant regenerates but won’t wake up’ doesn’t exactly have a lot of wikipedia articles dedicated to it.”

“And you think it has to do with the witch you killed?”

“Yeah, pretty sure. But usually, when a witch dies, spells they cast are broken. So this one being intact, if it is a spell, is concerning.” _ Since when does Steve ask about hunting stuff? _Dean wonders.

“Well, I have some time so if you want any help, I can lend a hand.” Steve offers.

“Not that that isn’t… swell and all, but why? You haven’t taken much interest in hunting ‘till now.” Dean asks in a carefully non-sarcastic tone. He doesn’t want to be a jerk, he really is just curious.

“I just need a little distance from… the support groups and everything. I’m kind of on ‘vacation’, per se, but… well, I need to stay busy.”

“Hmm,” Dean hums. 

A few hours later, all of Dean’s books and his laptop have moved from the bed to the dining room table, where Steve is now assisting with research. Steve brought out his own laptop, which Dean looked surprised at only to be told “I’ve been in this century a few years now, I know how to use it,” with a sly smile.

They were at it for a few hours before Dean had to call it a night. Steve offered to keep working, because he wasn’t tired. Natasha hadn’t moved, either.

“Just… take a break when you need it,” Dean said, feeling so weird to be on the opposite end of that advice. “You too, Nat.”

He got a nod from Steve and a short hum of affirmation from Nat. Good enough. 

Two more days passed like this. Dean and Steve began making extra food for Nat and just placing it in her field of view. Maybe half the time, it actually got eaten. Claire called to say she found a lead and was following it.

On the third day, Claire called with good news. She found a spell, in a book stowed away by the coven in a neighboring town. The spell supposedly put someone to sleep until it was broken. But neither she nor Dean knew how to break it.

“Wait,” Steve said, flipping back a few pages in his current book. “Read that spell again, Claire?” Claire was on speakerphone and responded with the old French, butchered slightly. 

“I think this is from a fairy tale. A really old version of Sleeping Beauty from something called Perceforest? Part of that spell, if I’m reading it right, is here.”

Dean examined the text and agreed with Steve, although he didn’t really know how this helped.

“So what, Wade is a Disney princess now? Why wouldn’t the spell break when the witch died? How do we break it now? His wife is dead and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t have any girlfriends.”

Claire’s slightly fuzzy voice comes through. “I’ll work on a translation of the spell, see if I can work out a fix. You guys keep going on the fairy tale.”

“Sounds good,” Dean affirms, and Claire hangs up.

“Is this kind of thing normal for you guys?” Steve asks.

“Normal is a relative term,” Dean responds. “You should'a seen it when Sam lifted Thor’s hammer,” Dean added with a chuckle. Steve’s eyes widened before he shook his head and leaned back over the book. Dean started googling.

“I got nothing,” Steve said four hours later. “Maybe I’m missing something but all I can find is that story. And it’s the oldest known version, it’s part of a poetry book or something, not even a plain old fairy tale.”

“Yeah those Grimm brothers generally didn’t make up anything new,” Dean affirmed. “Well, what’s the story?”

“Same as any other story, just different in the details. Girl put to sleep, woken up by a prince.”

They were interrupted by the phone ringing. Dean quickly answered it, and Claire didn’t waste any time. She was out of breath already, but rambled on in a quiet but clear voice.

“So, we aren’t dealing with the real Sleeping Beauty spell,” she starts out, “but a sort of side-version that started with these gay chicks in England a thousand years ago. It’s where the original story came from, but it was a misunderstanding. Basically, this princess was in love with one of her servants, and to ‘cure her of her homosexuality’ the family hired a witch who essentially poisoned her and put her into a coma. The spell and poison eventually wore off, maybe when that witch died, and the timing was seemingly perfect because they had been hiring princes, suitors to come and kiss her awake,” Claire paused the story to take some deep breaths, but there was still a light smacking sound from her end. She sounded like she was running. 

“Are you okay? Are you running?” Dean interrupted.

“Yeah, just from- yeah, cops, who saw me…” She cut off for a moment. “They saw me at this old abandoned house, probably thought I was breaking in,” she said, panting.

“You were breaking in.” 

“Yeah, but for a good reason! Anyway, I’m good now. Back to the story. Princess finally woke up and they thought that guy was the reason, thus the fairy tale was born. Later, in France, the real great granddaughter of the same servant, who had been banished way back, also fell in love with a woman who was supposed to be married to the prince there. But she was a witch, and kind of put a reverse Sleeping-Beauty spell on that prince. The royal family believed in the curse, but it kept not working ‘cause they kept sending girls, and the spell only allowed a boy to break it because the witch knew that the family would never consider a boy as his ‘true love’.”

Claire was out of breath from talking so long. Dean felt like his head had just exploded.

“So what, Wade’s true love needs to be a guy?”

“Not a true love,” Steve interjected. “I kept getting confused over this part, a footnote in a book from a few centuries later, but I think it can just be any guy!”

“Yeah, I think that’s the spell. A kiss from any guy. In fact, I’m reasonably sure that the witch you killed is actually the great-grandaughter of the original servant girl, the one who cast the second original spell, without the poison. No wonder killing her was so hard, she had a ton of power. The spell will probably eventually wear off, but it could take years considering how powerful she was. We just don’t know,” Claire finished.

“Holy shit,” Dean marveled. 

“So who’s gonna kiss him?” came Claire’s voice again.

Dean spluttered, “What? What do you mean?”

“Well, you want him to wake up, one of you ought'a kiss him,” Claire retorted.

“I’ll do it,” Steve piped up.

“_ What _?” Dean asked, shocked to hell. 

“Someone’s got to, I don’t mind,” was all he said. Dean was speechless.

“Excellent! Well, I’m on my way back soon. See you guys,” Claire exclaimed.

“Bye,” was the only syllable that Dean could choke out.

“Let’s see if it works then, yeah?” Steve said as he got up. Dean followed, still not sure that he wasn’t hallucinating.

As they neared the medical wing, Dean found his voice again.

“You sure this doesn’t… I dunno, bother you?” He asked skeptically. This was Captain America, from the, what, 20’s or 30’s? Guy this old, probably not super into kissing dudes.

“It really doesn’t. Unless you want to be the one?”

Dean spluttered again, “No, nope. I mean, uh, I guess if you think you got this, I’m not gettin’ in your way.” Steve gave him a very strange look that he had no desire to dwell on, and they continued to Wade’s room in silence. When they got inside, Steve went straight to Wade’s bedside, but Dean hesitated a few feet away. This was so weird. 

Steve seemed to check in with him one last time, waiting for Dean’s signal. Dean just nodded, worrying that his face looked like he had just seen a ghost (in the traditional sense of the phrase), but nodding nonetheless. Steve leaned down, gently dragged the mask up above Wade’s mouth and nose, and pressed a gentle, chaste kiss to Wade’s lips. It was over in a split second, but Dean’s stomach felt odd and he still wasn’t sure what was happening. 

For a moment, nothing happened. Steve looked confused, but then, with a shout, Wade shot up like a rocket into a sitting position. 

“Whoooooo! That one was a _ bitch and a half _,” he exclaims loudly. “What even was that one? Blood loss? Amputation? Organ failure?”

“Try a nearly thousand-year-old curse,” Steve said, chuckling with relief. Wade suddenly seemed to realize that Captain America was next to him. 

“Oh. Em. GEEEEEE. HOLY SHIT. You’re Captain America! I am such a big fan, you have no idea. Love your work, taking down baddies, Hydra, yada yada. You’re an inspiration. And a fine piece of ass. How is your torso even shaped like this?? Sorry, I’m being weird. Anyway, you’re great. Can I have your autograph?” 

“Uh, sure…” Steve answered with a nervous smile. He seemed a little freaked out. “I’ll sign something for you. For now, how are you feeling?”

“Wow, so rested, tbh (he actually said the acronym to Dean’s exasperation and Steve’s confusion). I don’t think I’ve slept that long in years. How long was I out?”

Steve looked to Dean to take the reigns here. Awesome.

“Uh, Wade… You were out for like three weeks,” he said awkwardly.

Wade’s mask eyes widened and his jaw dropped.

“Three weeks?” he nearly shouted, again. “What the fuck?”

“Well, like Steve said, there was a curse. The witch that we were fighting cursed you, put you into a sort of… coma.”

“So how did I wake up? Wouldn’t killing the witch break the curse anyway? Did you guys break the curse? Since when does Captain America help with hunting?” Wade spoke very quickly, and Dean’s brain just sort of buzzed as he tried to think of how to explain this without being weird about it. Turns out, Steve had no such issues.

“I had to kiss you. The curse was an old Sleeping-Beauty type thing, but it could be broken by a kiss from any guy. I hope you don’t mind, we didn’t know how long it would take to wear off if we had waited.” There was dead silence for about ten seconds, and Wade’s face was one of complete shock.

“I’m really sorry if it wasn’t okay,” Steve started again, finally getting a little nervous. “We couldn't really get your consent, so we just…” Wade interrupted then.

“I. Got. Kissed. BY CAPTAIN AMERICA?!?! AND I WASN’T EVEN AWAKE FOR IT?” he dramatically fell back down to the bed, lifting his arm up over his face. “I can’t believe it. My dream come true and I was literally cursed asleep. Wanna go again, Cap?” he asked, removing his arm from his face and propping himself up on one arm. “Make sure it sticks?”

Steve just laughed now. “I think you’re alright. Uh, how about I make some food? I’m sure you’re hungry.”

“Ugh, fine, food is okay.” Steve smiled and shuffled out. Dean just nodded at Steve as he left. Then he sat at one of the chairs near Wade’s bed.

“So, update me. What have I missed, buddy?”

* * *

After Dean explained everything and a nurse came in to check over Wade, the two headed back to the common area where Steve was making dinner. It smelled great. They sat down and waited. Wade seemed content to play on his phone, Natasha kept glancing up at him, Steve just continued cooking and Dean… well, Dean couldn’t stop dwelling on what had gone down just now.

Why did he feel so _ weird _ about this?? He didn’t have problems with gay people. Charlie was gay. Claire was gay. Cas wasn’t even human, just happened to be in a dude’s vessel and Dean… was totally fine with the fact that Cas wasn’t really a man or woman. Nothing else to it, no siree. He had his fleeting childhood crush on Captain America, but so did everyone! There is no reason why it should make him feel so weird that Steve was just _ okay _ about kissing Wade, no questions asked.

He couldn’t remember ever feeling this… awkward about something. As the group ate the delicious burgers Steve made, Natasha in her spot and the men at the table, Dean was quiet while Wade gushed over Steve. Steve was good-natured enough to go along with it. It got later and Claire finally texted that she was in a motel for the night. Dean felt weird about going to bed himself. He didn’t want to just ditch the rest of the crew. 

Wade offered to do dishes, which left Dean and Steve at the table. Finally, Natasha got up and came to sit with them.

“I was starting to think your butt was glued to the couch,” Dean couldn’t help but snark at her.

“Ha, ha,” she responded dryly, taking one of the cookies Steve had made for dessert. “So, everything good here?”

“Yep. All back to normal. How about your research?” 

Natasha’s eyes flickered to the laptop momentarily, then she turned back to face Steve, even though it was Dean who asked. “Another bust. I don’t get it.”

“He’s grieving,” Steve offered. 

“I know that… but we’re grieving too. And he’s the only one who…”

“Don’t beat yourself up, Nat,” Steve reassured her. Natasha just sighed.

“I’ll try. Well, I’m off to bed. Night, boys,” she said as she got up to go. Dean and Steve helped finish cleaning up, and then everyone went to bed, Wade in a guest room. Later, around midnight, Dean ventured from his room to grab a book he had left in the dining room. He was curious about something and couldn’t sleep quite yet because his stomach was still in knots from earlier, for no fucking reason. On his way down the hall, he stopped when he heard voices. He always walked quietly, but he didn’t think he walked quietly enough to sneak past heightened senses. But the conversation continued, so Dean listened in. He didn’t want to eavesdrop, but it was a habbit.

“-wanted to make sure you’re really okay. I know you’re having a hard time with all this.” That was Steve’s voice.

“I just… I want to scream at him. What are you doing? Why are you doing this? And why doesn’t he just come back?” Natasha said weakly.

“I know it’s annoying to hear, but really, I think this is just his process. He’s gotta get it out of his system.”

“I’m sure you’re right, but… it’s wrong, and he knows it. He’s acting like Wilson.”

“From what I understand, Wilson doesn’t do that stuff anymore. Isn’t he hunting with Dean full-time now?”

“Supposedly… I just don’t trust him. I think with enough money, he would go back to his old ways.”

“Well, hunting doesn’t pay at all, so there must be something keeping him there.”

“I don’t know, Steve. It’s just… all of it is too much sometimes. I feel weird with him being here. I know I have no right, and it doesn’t even matter because she isn’t here, but I wouldn’t be okay with him being here if Claire was home.”

Steve paused, and Dean felt his own indignance rise. That was a low blow. Wade wasn’t any threat to Claire. Or a bad influence. Nat might feel that way, but Dean thinks that his relationship with Wade is strong enough that Wade wouldn’t turn on him, not for money. Finally, Steve thought of something to say.

“Isn’t that how Tony felt when pictures of Wilson with the Spider-kid started popping up?”

“What do you know about Spider-Man?”

“Not much, just that Tony recruited him, he’s from Queens, and his voice sounded like a child. I wish I could ask Tony about that, recruiting a kid, but I don’t think he’d be very happy to hear my opinion and I don’t want to upset him. I know that Spider-Man got dusted.”

“Well, you’re right, Tony didn’t want him around Wilson.”

“But Dean seems to trust him. And Dean’s as cautious as you are, if not more so,” Steve countered.

“I know… I’m just afraid. I’ll get over it.”

“Mhmm. Well, if you need me for anything, I’ll gladly help out. And while I’ve got you here… Does Dean have some sort of… issue, or anything, with… uh, well,” he trailed off.

“Spit it out, Steve. Does he have an issue with what?”

“Gay people?”

“You mean is he homophobic? I doubt it. Claire’s a lesbian and he acts like her dad. Clearly loves the kid. I don’t think he cares. Why?”

“He just got super weird when I offered to kiss Wade. I thought he was straight so it would be less weird if I did it, since I’m bi. I didn’t mind. But he seemed so… awkward about it.”

“Huh. Yeah I think I tuned in for part of that. Maybe he has some repressed shit of his own. Maybe he’s into Wilson. Who knows?”

“Hm,” Steve murmured. “Maybe. Oh well. I’ll let you get to sleep. Goodnight, Nat.”

“Night, Steve.” Thank god Steve’s wing was in the opposite direction and he didn’t pass Dean’s spot down the hall. 

What the fuck? Did Dean have repressed shit? He didn’t think so. Or at least, his repressed shit was all hunting-related. He definitely wasn’t into Wade. He was a straight dude. Definitely an ally, like Natasha said- he didn’t care that Claire was gay, and he wanted her to be happy. It’s what any good person does. And Steve was bi? _ Captain America _ was bisexual? It was frankly surprising but Dean didn’t think it was bad in any way. Why would Steve think he is homophobic? Was his awkwardness earlier rude? Dean forgot all about his book. His mind running a mile a minute, he got back in bed and panicked for a while, never reaching any good conclusion in his thoughts. He finally fell into a restless sleep three hours later.


	9. Life Update and Give Me Your Opinions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> not a real chapter! sorry!

hey yall! sorry this isn't a real update but you can go check out chapter 8 which is new as of february 29th!

it might take me a bit of time to update because im not feeling so hot. i didnt get into my top pick school and my motivation is pretty down right now 😔

i am absolutely continuing this story, just give me a little patience ❤️ on that note, i have questions for you!!! PLEASEPLEASEPLEASE comment and interact with this, because i have too many ideas and would like to get some direction from yall!

1) in the upcoming chapters, dean is gonna be spending more time at the compound and there will be some time jumps to get us closer to the time heist. so far the story has been almost entirely dean's point of view, with a teensy bit of claire. I'm thinking of using her POV more frequently in the future. what do you guys like? dean? claire? both? maybe deadpool? someone else new? i would love to do a little tony/nat scene maybe from ton's pov. 

2) dean is pretty okay with himself having a "crush" on cap, but he disregards it as silly and childish. he's going to go through a bit of an awakening about his bisexuality and start to take it seriously. what would you guys like to see from this? i have a couple ideas, but i'm a little caught between giving dean a fling during the 5 years (and if so, with who? i got two main contenders and you can probs guess who but are they good picks??) or having him kind of wait for cas. he did hook up with a chick in NC but im talking a M/M fling. OR maybe he figures himself out but for some reason doesnt do anything about it til cas is back (this is sweet but you kinda gotta suspend disbelief for it, cause dean thinks cas is dead).

3) just in general, tell me what you like and dont like! anything you want to see? or want to see more of?

4) go check out my #PPWDFCFTBATK series if you like bon appetit videos and marvel fanfic!! i have more stuff lined up/almost done for that so it will likely get an update or two before this one.

Thanks for sticking with the story! I'm sorry for being a bit of a party pooper, but i know you guys will understand! hopefully this little slump wont last too long and we'll have more chapters before you know it 😉


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